


Body and Soul

by Leticheecopae



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bro is a douche, College AU, Demon AU, Demonstuck, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, Horror, M/M, Non-con elements are in later chapters, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-17 10:12:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 28,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11849418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leticheecopae/pseuds/Leticheecopae
Summary: Ever since he came to college, Dirk has been having the same nightmare, one where he is being chased in the dark with no idea as to who, or what is following him. But they’re just dreams, right? His roommate, Horuss, can just wake him up when they get bad. But Horuss isn’t always going to be there to wake him up, and when that happens, who knows how far into the dream he’ll go.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a collaboration between myself and [glass-hearts-art](glass-hearts-art.tumblr.com) over on tumblr. She is doing some lovely comics to go with the chapters I write. We have wanted to do this for a while, and it is nice to finally start posting it!

_His skin feels like fire. Each step he takes into the church fills his body with an agony unlike anything he could have ever imagined. He knew the stipulations of the deal, what hallowed ground could do to him, but he doesn’t care anymore. He needs help, and the only place he can turn to now is God._

_“My son, you look ill. What is-”_

_“Father, please,” he gasps as he goes to his knees. “Please, father, cleanse me of my sin.”_

_The priest looks at him, eyes wide, mouth slightly agape. He begins to speak, but the words don’t match his lips._

“Dirk, wake up.” The room shudders and Dirk feels himself jerk forward before falling back. 

Both of his eyes fly open as he gasps. He expects to find himself staring up at stained glass windows, but instead, he finds the pockmarked slats of ceiling tiles with obscenities scrawled on them from as far back as 1956.

“Are you alright up there?”

Dirk rolls up against the rail of his bunk and looks down. Horuss looks up at him blearily between strands of long, dark hair. Their bunks are shaped like an L, Horuss’s height making it impossible for him to sleep beneath the other without braining himself each morning. At first, Dirk had found it creepy that Horuss could see his hair and shoulders while he slept, and that he could look over the edge of his own bunk and watch Horuss sleep. But when the nightmares started to come, his presence had become somewhat soothing, the other mechanical engineering student a welcomed sight after Dirk’s night terrors.

“‘M fine,” Dirk grumbles before letting his head flop back into his pillow.

“Same nightmare?”

Dirk doesn’t reply as he keeps his face firmly planted in his pillow.

Horuss sighs below him. “Do you need to call Dave?”

Dirk glances at the alarm clock, set well away from both of them so that the snooze button can’t tempt them, and sees that it’s just past 3 am. Tuesday morning. Dave would probably still be up, he does do his best script work in the middle of the night, but he knows that if he has finally broken his block that Dirk’s fear with just block it again. He glances at the phone balanced at the head of his bunk.

“I’m good,” he finally says.

“Then I’ll forgo the earplugs.”

“You don’t have to, dude.”

“Who else is going to keep you from throwing yourself off the top bunk?” He watches Horuss hunker back down under his blankets.

“Thanks, man.”

“You owe me coffee in the morning.”

“Don’t I always?” 

Horuss gives a little chuckle before Dirk hears him reposition. After a few minutes, Horuss’s breathing drifts up to him slow and even. It isn’t long before Dirk hears the strange sleep sound he makes, like a horse nickering. It’s a soothing sound to him at this point. He listens to his own breathing, closes his eyes, and heads back to sleep.

_His skin is burning._

Dirk wakes up before the alarm. He knows he won’t get back to sleep, he never does after the second round, so instead, Dirk stares at the back of his eyelids. Better to at least rest even if he can’t sleep. He’s mentally going through a new possible design for the end of semester robot competition when the alarm finally goes off.

“Come on, Horsey. Giddy-up,” he calls with a yawn.

“Keep quacking, Duck,” Horuss grumbles. 

Dirk still doesn’t get why Horuss doesn’t call him ‘Dick,' then again he’s never really heard the guy swear. Well, there was the one night he got Horuss to come back home with him for a weekend. Aunt Rose had given him some wine and his cousin Roxy brought some wine coolers. While Horuss had handled it well at first, he had suddenly gone pink in the cheeks and had let the curses fly. He kept going until Rose swapped the wine with cranberry juice and V8 and Horuss fell asleep watching Disney’s ‘Spirit’ with his head on Dirk’s lap.

Dirk climbs down the side of the bunks and goes to hit the alarm. Horuss lays with his head under his pillow.

“Come on,” Dirk grumbles as he pulls at the pillow. “If we don’t hurry we won’t get a good spot in the coffee line.” 

“How have I become so reliant on a bean?” Horuss groans as he rolls out of bed and unfolds. Dirk does his best not to stare at him. While Horuss is fine with Dirk being gay, he has even expressed that he may be somewhere in the land of Bi or Pan, Dirk does his best not to look his roommate over. He’s still unsure if his attraction is because Horuss isn’t a bad looking guy at all, or because at this point he’s become almost as close a friend as Jake, Jane, and Roxy.

Dirk throws on some clothing, making it seem like he’s not caring what he picks, even though he had mentally gone through each outfit combination before falling asleep last night. His hands wield his hair gel like a sculpting knife, and in less than twenty minutes, he’s helping his still groggy roommate down to the coffee shop near the dorms. They could go to the cafeteria for coffee, they have meal plans, but it's swill compared to whatever beans ‘Before the Sun’ uses. Already the line is twenty people deep, and four different baristas are running around like crazy.

“Sorry again, man,” Dirk says as he watches Horuss give one hell of a yawn.

“Was it the same dream?”

Dirk hesitates before nodding. 

“Did you get any further.” Horuss still looks tired, but at least his interest is piqued. 

“Kind of?” Dirk rubs the back of his head. “Actually got into the church this time, not just running through the little graveyard towards it. There was some guy in there.”

“He say anything?” 

Dirk wracks his brain. While the dream does tend to stick with him, this is the first time there has been actual dialogue. Usually, it’s just him, scared out of his mind, running for a church while something in the dark hunts him.

“Not sure.” They move up a few steps in line. “I said something about forgiveness of sin, and there was a cross.” He snorts. “I don’t think I’ve been in a church since I went with Jane when I visited her.”

“Maybe your subconscious is pulling from that?”

“Yeah, but why the hell would it do that when I’ve been in a mosque fifty thousand times more than a church? It makes absolutely no sense to me.” Dirk scratches the nape of his neck, a habit he developed to keep from messing up his hair.

“Dreams rarely do,” Horuss replies as he pops his neck. They move up another spot in line. “I think it’s your subconscious telling you something. Maybe you’re afraid of the church?”

“They did kill the coolest Jew around.”

Horuss shakes his head with a slight smirk. “I have no earthly idea how to respond to that.”

Dirk just shrugs. 

It takes another fifteen minutes to get their caffeine fix, the two waiting in line and talking about possible homework the other had forgotten about. Dirk realizes he has a paper due in two days, thanks to Horuss having the same class -just at a different time-, and he reminded Horuss about a trig set due later that day.

“Looks like I’ll be spending lunch in the library,” Horuss sighs as they head back to the campus. There is a chill in the air, and Dirk wonders if he needs to start bringing a coat. It’s a possibility, but until he’s pining for one in the middle of the afternoon, he’ll forgo carrying one around on campus.

“You can always copy mine,” he offers.

Horuss looks at Dirk as if he had just insulted Horuss’ mother.

“Or not.” Dirk takes a sip of his drink. “See you tonight?”

Horuss shakes his head. “Wednesday.”

“Riiiight. Nepeta’s theater troop thing. What are you helping with again?”

“Props.”

“Can’t believe she wrangled you into that class.”

Horrus shrugs. “Building the sets has been entertaining at least, and she is quite good at her parts.”

“Just don’t track any more paint into the room.”

“I was unaware it was in my hair last time.”

“Yeah yeah,” Dirk punches his arm softly. “See you back at the dorms.” 

“See you then,” Horuss replies as he walks off towards his first class. As he goes, some of Dirk’s awareness goes with him. The guy may have to be prodded into talking at times, but at least he’s a decent conversationalist. He makes Dirk feel somewhat energized when they speak. Now, walking by himself with just his coffee for company, he doesn’t feel quite as awake.

The back path behind the sciences building has minimum foot traffic this early, though it’s further out of the way. Dirk likes the dark, quiet area as he goes to the building that holds the engineering classes. The extra five minutes across campus can be worth it just to have a moment spent not running into strangers on the sidewalks. 

At least, not usually.

“Sorry.” The voice comes before the bump to his side, forcing Dirk into an impromptu juggling act. Despite his best effort, some of the coffee splashes over his hand. Thankfully, it isn’t scalding, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t a pain in the ass. He doesn’t want to smell like fucking cinnamon all day.

“The fuck man?” He turns towards the person he had collided with, or to be more exact, had collided with him.

“What? Said ‘M sorry.” His accent is thick, like something out of a western but there is something off about it, though Dirk can’t tell what.

The guy seems older than him and is at least a good head taller. He’s got hair similar to Dirk’s, the weird in between of blonde and red, and a smattering of facial hair to go with it. He’s in a white shirt, tight jeans, and his black gloved hands are shoved into his front pockets. They don’t detract from the impressive bulge of his groin.

Despite how normal he looks, there is one thing that’s freaking Dirk out, though. The guy's glasses. 

_’What the fuck?’_ He’s wearing the same damn sharp shades, the points of them touching the sides of an obnoxiously orange ballcap. He gives Dirk a grin that looks a little too white in the early morning shadows that fall over the path.

“What’s wrong? I knock out your tongue?” He leans forwards. “Could help you find it if ya wan’.” His tongue comes out and licks over his teeth.

Dirk feels both unease and lust zip through him at the same time.

“I-I’ve got class.” Stammers are not cool, but he can’t stop it.

“Ever heard of playing hooky?”

“Ever thought of finishing college?” he snips back. Great, nice move, now he’s going to get his ass kicked behind the sciences building. Dirk’ll put up a damn good fight, but based on this guys build there is a good chance that he'll take Dirk down.

“Aw, that any way to speak to your elders?” He takes a step forward, and somehow Dirk keeps his ground despite the instinct to run. “You know, age before beauty, though with you, I think I’d make an exception.” 

Dirk doesn’t see the guy's hand move, but he sure as hell feels it on his chin. It pinches his jaw and tilts his head up. 

“That is if you make it up to me.” He starts leaning down, looking like he’s about to give Dirk the most romantic of kisses. Something about him has Dirk’s body singing a song with the lyrics ‘FUCK NO FUCK NO FUCK NO’. 

Dirk’s hand moves quicker than his brain can. Coffee goes flying, the lid no match for the force he puts behind the movement, and it splashes over the guy’s chest. It startles him to have him stumble away from Dirk.

“Tha fuck?”

Dirk bolts. The best wisecrack he can come up with as he rounds the corner is to glance behind himself and flip the guy off, though he almost stops. He’s not there, at least not where Dirk can see, but Dirk’s not about to go looking for trouble.

He sprints to his class, doing a little free running over signs and things to shave off some time, and is a somewhat sweaty mess when he slides into his chair a few minutes before class starts. A few people look at him with raised eyebrows, those too tired to care ignore him, and Dirk says nothing as he gets his breathing back under control and gets ready to pay attention, or try to at least.

More than once he finds his eyes looking out the second story window, scanning. Each time he swears he sees something orange in the trees out of the corner of his eye, but when he looks, there’s nothing there.

It doesn’t stop him from double checking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have some fun ideas for y'all. Hope you enjoy what's to come


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look, things are happening! Now that I'm settling into my new job, I'm hoping that chapters will come quicker, both for this story and others. Enjoy! I will also be adding a link to a corresponding image later, as this story is a collaboration.

The dorm room feels too warm as he walks inside. The school has already kicked on the central heating, and while there is a dial to ‘change’ the temperature, it’s more of a joke. There are only two modes at night; freeze your ass off, or swelter. 

“Maybe that’s why I keep dreaming I’m burning,” Dirk grumbles as he goes and stands by the open windows. There are three, the center that is a single pane of glass and two smaller side windows that slide up to reveal their screens. So far, he and Horuss have only been able to keep a decent balance by having both the windows opened and the heat blasting. It’s not like they pay to heat the room, so why the fuck not? Not their fault the school thinks turning the place into a furnace is the best way to combat the oncoming cold of the lower midwest. Not that it gets too cold, but for someone who’s spent most of his life in the heat of Texas, anything under sixty has him grabbing for a jacket when no one else is looking.

A pleasant breeze comes through the window, carrying the scent of the coming autumn into the dorm to cut through the smell of body spray and general testosterone. Not for the first time, Dirk thinks about getting an air freshener. Horuss is a great guy, but he does have a little bit of a sweating problem, and while he does his best to keep any BO under control, his bedroom always holds the light aroma of sweat.

Dirk throws his backpack next to his desk. He’s got two papers due at the end of the week, a thing of calculations for tomorrow, multiple chapters for multiple courses, and a crippling case of ‘No-Fucks-Given’ on top of it all. Hell, he’s had it since tall, brooding and blonde had startled the fuck out of him this morning. He thinks about heading out to the workshops. A few stay open all night for students, but even the thought of metal working is unappealing. He pulls out his phone and clicks over to his chatting app.

timaeusTestified [TT] began pestering electricStallion [ES]

TT: Hey man. Would you be up for going out and grabbing some grub?  
ES: 8=( Dirk, it is Wednesday.

Dirk almost smacks himself in the face. Of course, set building. They’d just talked about it, how could he forget? 

TT: Sorry. Totally blanked. Have fun and try not to get painted into a corner.  
ES: 8=D I’m attempting not to.  
ES: 8=D And I will be back late tonight. I have been invited to a theater get together. I promise to be quiet.  
TT: You know Meulin is going to force you onto her couch, right?  
ES: 8=/ I am not going to imbibe anything.  
TT: You say this, but I have seen you with wine coolers.  
ES: 8=/ ...I refuse to acknowledge that night.  
TT: Whatever dude. You cursing at Titanic while holding a hard lemonade will forever be burned into my brain.  
ES: 8=p Your aunt is an enabler. Now, please, I’m trying to not get paint on my phone.  
TT: Alright, see ya tomorrow.  
ES: 8=D Tonight.  
TT: Keep telling yourself that.

electricStallion [ES] ceased pestering timaeusTestified [TT]

Dirk tosses his phone onto the desk and sits back on Horuss's bed. It is the unofficial couch of their room, seeing as the rest of the small space is taken up by their desks and dressers. A TV sits on top of one of the dressers, in a place both of them can see from their respective beds. Dirk is still proud that they haven’t accidentally knocked it off after stumbling in from the workshop at the wee hours of the morning. 

Dirk flops back and sighs. He really should do homework, or go to the workshop, but fuck that. He’s exhausted. Nightmares have been commonplace for the past few weeks, and while Horuss has been helping, it hasn’t been enough to keep the exhaustion at bay. Even on the weekends, Dirk can’t sleep in past seven. He tries, fuck does he try, but it usually ends up with Dirk staring up at the ceiling while he listens to Horuss’ breathing. 

The linens on Horuss’ bed hold the comforting scent of his roommate. Yes, it is salty and reeks more than a bit of body odor, but the added aroma of body spray and the citrus tang of Horuss’ body wash is stronger and makes it almost pleasant. Dirk stares up at the underside of his bunk; his feet on the floor, knees bent, and his body diagonal on the bed. 

He should get up; should turn off the lights. But in a minute. Just a few minutes. He just wants to lay here in the shadow of his bunk while he breathes in Horuss’ scent and the fresh air from outside. 

A gurgle rises in his stomach, gently prodding him to head to the dining hall. The rest of his body says just five more minutes. Just five. More.

_“My son, you look ill. What is-”_

_“Father, please,” he gasps as he goes to his knees. “Please, father, cleanse me of my sin.”_

_The priest looks down at him, eyes wide, mouth slightly agape._

_“Your skin, it’s-”_

_“I know!” he screams to the rafters. “Please, there’s no time. I confess my sins. I have killed, I have coveted the wealth of my neighbor, I have-”_

_The bell above the church tolls, the sound hollow and strange. It sends a reverberation of dread down through Dirk._

_The priest stares at the ceiling. “What? It’s too early for-”_

_“Please!”_

_It is almost here. Even inside the church, he won’t be safe. It is almost-_

Dirk jerks awake to darkness. Cool air ghosts over his face and dances with the papers on his desk. 

“Damn,” he murmurs as he sits up. What time is it?

He turns to look at the clock and freezes.

“Hey there.” Someone is outlined against the mesh of the window. He’s sitting on the windowsill, which shouldn't be impossible with how thin it is, but somehow he’s balanced, one leg out, one bent upwards, and an arm stretched out over the bent knee. The light outside gives an orange tint along his entire outline, including the brim of a ball cap. Dirk finds his stomach trying to make friends with his bladder. 

They’re on the fourth floor. How in the hell? Dirk decides to try and vocalize the question with a stammered, “H-how did-”

“Never smart to leave yer window open,” he interrupts as he fingers at the side of the window screen; Dirk can see it pull back with each pluck. “People can still get in if they’re tenacious enough.” He can see the flash of the guy’s teeth in the dim light and a haze of what looks like smoke. For a second he thinks he might see the cherry of a cigarette, but in a blink, it’s gone. 

Dirk slides slowly off of Horuss’ bed. His eyes are wide, taking in as much light as they can. He reaches up to remove his shades only to find that they are already gone and that the room is just that dark. Part of him wants to find them, an insane little part of him that doesn’t seem to realize that he needs to get the fuck out of the room, not find his damn accessories. He begins to shrink back towards the door to his dorm, eyes trained on the stranger at his window.

“Where you goin?”

Dirk blinks, finds the window free of a shadow and feels something pressing up behind him. A large hand slides down over his right hip before gripping Dirk’s inner thigh. His other hand slides up under Dirk’s shirt and over his left pec. The guy is taller than Dirk, not by much, but enough that he has to bow his head to murmur in Dirk’s ear.

“Not gonna leave your guest all on his lonesome are ya?”

Dirk tries to jerk forward, but the hands pull him tighter against the body behind him. A nose presses into his hair and takes a deep whiff of him.

Dirk throws his head back. 

The person grunts as Dirk’s face smashes against their nose. The intruder’s hands relax just enough that Dirk can pull away and dart towards the window. The guy had gotten up here, so maybe he can get down. He’s already halfway out the torn screen when a hand grabs his ankle and tugs. 

Dirk’s body flails as he tries to pull himself out into the night. A lone, orange street light glows below him, turning the silent world into impossible angles.

He throws a kick, feels it connect against the guys face, and manages to tug his leg away. The triumph is short lived when he realizes he has no idea how to get down. The walls out here are smooth, like plastic instead of stone, and he can’t even feel the seams between the bricks.

A thick arm wraps under his hips, startling him, and jerks him back into the room. Dirk thrashes as the other hand comes up and grabs across his chest, pulling him tight. 

“Get. Off.” Dirk grits out between his teeth as he kicks backward, but the intruder doesn’t even flinch. Instead, he presses his face into the back of Dirk’s neck and gives a little groan as he grinds his broken nose into the vertebrae.

Dirk stutters to a stop as the bloodied nose get pushes into the side of his neck. Shattered cartilage shifts against his skin, making him shiver and also want to vomit. Blood dribbles down his back, into his shirt, and the man behind him chuckles.

“Knew you’d have some fight in you.” The drawl sinks into his skin and down into the pit of his stomach.

“Y-you’re the guy from this morning.” He can’t stop the stammer and hates himself for it.

“Mmmhmm, name’s Brodrick by the way, though most people have taken to calling me Bro nowadays.” The hand wrapped around Dirk’s waist skims up and down his side before gripping his hip tight. “Either one you want to scream is fine by me, Dirk.” He leans down, the heat of his breath ghosting over Dirk’s ear. 

“Wh-what do you want?” 

“What do you think I want?” 

Bro’s mouth drifts over the side of Dirk’s throat before his tongue comes out and licks up Dirk’s neck. Blood and spit smears against his skin, spreading up into the base of his hair as Bro laps upwards. Teeth then tickle their way down the nape of his neck.

“My roommate will be back soon.” The words come out a little shaky as he grips at the hands on him. He pulls even though it doesn’t do anything. 

“Thought he was out paintin’.”

Dirk’s hands stop pulling. What the fuck? How does he know that?

“Probably up to his eyeballs in lumber, passed out in an orchestra pit.” The hand that had been on his hip slides down to his crotch and cups him. “Probably won’t be back for a few hours at least.”

Dirk takes a sharp breath before trying to yank himself away. The hands on him grow tighter.

“What’s wrong, Dirk? You’ve been thinking about me, haven’t you?” bro nibbles at Dirk’s lobe as he presses his hips into Dirk. His cock is a hard line against Dirk’s ass. “Saw you looking for me.”

Dirk takes in a sharp inhale as the hand on his crotch squeezes and rolls him. What is he going to do? Bro’s right, he has no idea when Horuss is going to be back, and no one else...wait. He’s in a dorm.

“HE-!” The word is choked off as Bro’s hand shoots up and grips his throat. His fingers are long and calloused, squeezing just below Dirk’s jaw bone. Bro forces Dirk’s head to turn uncomfortably to look over his shoulder. Dirk stares up into his face and sees two burning points in the dark. He realizes that he hadn’t seen a cigarette cherry earlier, it had been one of Bro’s pupils. 

Dirk twists hard as a flood of fear pours through him, and he almost breaks away. The hand on his lower body lets go, but the one on his neck goes with him and jerks him to a halt like a leash; forcing him to face Bro. 

On instinct, he throws a punch.

Bro catches it fluidly.

“Good to know I didn’t lose my spark.”

Dirk grunts in pain as Bro twists his arm down.

“Let go,” he grits out as he tries to kick out. The hand around his neck squeezes and lifts. Dirk goes up on his tiptoes, both hands gripping at Bro’s wrist. 

“I’m never letting you go again, lil’man.” Bro grins at him before throwing him backward.

A gasp explodes from Dirk as his back hits Horuss’ mattress. He barely has time to sit up before Bro is kneeling between his legs with his hands on either side of Dirk's head.

“Been looking too damn long to ever let you go again.” The kiss that follows is the most possessive thing Dirk has ever felt. It sinks into him, pulls at him, and has so much pressure behind it that Dirk finds he can’t even turn away. Teeth slice into his lips and the taste of copper in inescapable between the shallow cuts and Bro’s ruined nose. 

Dirk balls his hands into Bro’s shirt, right over his shoulders, and pushes. Bro comes off and Dirk gasps, though Bro doesn’t move very far. Despite how hard Dirk is pushing, Bro is still moving above him like it is nothing.

Bro grabs Dirk by his hair and tugs, forcing him to expose his throat. 

“Stop,” Dirk gurgles. There is blood in his mouth, and after the harshness of the kiss, he’s not sure who’s it is. Teeth bite into his neck; painful and provocative, sinking into his nerves and sending bolts of heat through him. The sound that escapes him is somewhere between a shout and a moan. Bro pushes down between Dirk’s legs, grinds against him, and makes him squirm as Bro sucks against his neck.

Dirk’s mouth flaps, trying to create words as he pushes. He pulls back with his left hand and tries to throw a punch, but Bro catches the hand and then bends it back. Dirk screams as his wrist is bent oddly, exposing his pulse point which Bro devours.

Bro’s mouth works at Dirk’s wrists, sucking, biting, and lapping against the thin skin with such vigor that Dirk feels like Bro might just be able to suck his heart out through his wrist. In a strange way, it feels good. Horribly rough and somewhat painful, but there is a weird, burning pleasure beneath it.

The sound that escapes him next is a pitiful pleading whimper. What he’s pleading for, Dirk’s not sure. The hand that tugs at his hair and the teeth on his wrist are making that hard to figure out.

Hands grip his shoulders, forcing his brain to crossfire. 

“Damn it,” Bro snarls against Dirk’s wrist and pulls back. Dirk can see the amber glow of his pupils, as if he can see through them and into a fire behind Bro's eyes.

The next whimper he gives is of pure fear.

“Dirk.” The voice shudders through him along with a rough shake. He can’t see the hands on his shoulders, but they are familiar, and so is the voice.

“Dirk, wake up.”

Bro snarls again, opens his mouth, and Dirk can see something glowing at the back of Bro’s throat. Dirk scrunches his eyes shut. The hand in his hair disappears, the ones on his shoulders solidify, and Dirk shoots upwards.

His head connects with something hard, and both he and someone else groan.

Squinting against the pain, Dirk looks into his room, the overhead light illuminating Horuss.

“Goodness you have a thick skull.”

Horuss is holding his head. Already, beneath his hand, Dirk can see a bruise blooming.

“Oh shit, you okay?”

“I believe I should be asking you that,” Horuss replies. “I’ve never heard you make sounds like that before. Are you alright?”

Dirk rubs at his forehead and presses against the bump that is rising. The pain grounds him.

“Yeah, just…” Dirk trails off.

“Bad dream?” 

Dirk nods as he rubs his left wrist against his pant leg. It still throbs along with his heartbeat.

“Well, as little as I like being rude, I am going to have to ask you to have them in your own bed.”

Huh? Oh...right. Dirk stands up.

“Sorry, Horuss. Didn’t mean to pass out down here.”

“Apology accepted, though you’re going to have to do a little more to make up for this egg on my head.” Horuss pulls his hand back, and Dirk winces. There is a definite lump in the center of the bruising.

“Looks like we match.” He drops his own hand.

Horuss sighs. “I’ll get some ice packs from the RA. Why don’t you go rinse off. You’re sweating more than me.”

“Don’t think that’s possible.”

Horuss throws a towel at him; one of his towels. It is big and fluffy, not like the old scratchy beach towels Dirk had insisted on bringing to campus. 

“Hurry up, we both have 7 AM classes in the morning.”

Dirk nods and shuffles towards the closets as Horuss leaves to find ice packs. As he moves, he feels a lagging erection push against his thigh. Shit, hopefully, Horuss hadn’t noticed that.

He quickly scoops up his shower basket, throws on flip-flops, and trades his clothing for his robe. Off to his side, 1 AM glows accusingly at him.

Being early Thursday morning, the bathroom is empty, except for one poor bastard who took ‘wasted Wednesday’ too far. Dirk can hear him retching in a toilet stall and cursing in between his dry heaves.

Dirk doesn’t wait for the shower to warm up, instead enjoying the cold water on his forehead and throbbing wrist.

“Must've of slept on it wrong,” he grumbles as he lifts it up to look at it. The bruise he finds makes the cold water suddenly feel fire hot as his blood freezes.

On his wrist, a heart shaped bruise sits in his skin, the red and browns blotchy well defined. It looks like a hickey.

With an unexpected heave from his stomach, Dirk finds himself adding to the retching noises that echo through the bathroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Heart Shaped Box' was repeating in my head as I edited this story.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween month! I am going to try and put up as many of these up as I can this month, because hell yeah horror! Other horror stories are going to be updated soon as well. 
> 
> And remember! Check out [glass-hearts-art](http://glass-hearts-art.tumblr.com) over on tumblr and search for the Body and Soul tag to see the corresponding comic page she does for each chapter!

Waking up is absolute hell. Well, getting out of bed would be a better description, seeing as Dirk didn’t sleep a wink the entire night. Every time he closed his eyes, he would see two glowing pinpoints and teeth backlit by light. 

_’It wasn’t even his Irises,’_ he thinks to himself with a shudder. _’The light was behind his eyes; in his pupils.’_

“You up, Duck?” Horuss asks with a yawn.

“Yeeep.” Dirk rolls over to look down at his unfolding roommate.

“Coffee?” Horuss asks blearily.

“Yeeep.”

“You must not have slept well if you can’t come up with some ironically convoluted way to express that.”

“Think you just covered that for me.” Dirk practically oozes down the side of the loft. Everything feels two molecules to the left, his body not quite in tune with his brain, and he can feel a headache in the back of his skull.

_’Yay. Dissociation time,’_ he thinks to himself. Like today isn’t going to be hell in the first place, trying to force his brain back into his body is going to add a whole nother level of ‘fuck you’ from whatever energy is hiding heaven behind the sun. Or is it behind a comet? Dirk doesn’t care, he’s tired and needs caffeine before his headache decides to go full blown migraine. 

Horuss becomes a kind of walking apparatus for him as they head to the shop. He keeps a hand on Dirk’s back, guiding his half-conscious ass through the coffee line as students shuffle around them; all of them waiting for their shot of daily stimulation.

“You sure you don’t want to use a sick day?” he asks as Dirk struggles to get his card back into his wallet. It should slide straight in, but it keeps tilting. Fucking two molecule shift. Once he finally gets it in, he shoves it into the deep pocket of his hoodie, which he had begrudgingly put on when he realized it was below sixty.

“It's just a little sleep deprivation, dude,” Dirk replies as he takes his coffee from him. “Besides, not like I can’t get the notes from you if I sleep through lecture.”

“Ain’t that cheating?”

Dirk freezes, coffee halfway up to his mouth. Horuss pauses next to him.

“I mean, I ain’t up to date on the plagiarism rules or any of that horse shit, but copying sure does sound like it would break them.” 

Dirk blinks as there is a tug against his hand and finds his coffee cup gone.

“Hey!” Horuss steps forward.

“Hold on there, Ponyboy. This guy owes me coffee after spilling his all over me yesterday.”

Dirk finally feels the gears in his head catch as he whirls towards the blonde man. He knows that anger should be his response, but instead all he gets out is a strange strangled sound as he watches Bro take a drink out of his cup.

_’You don’t know if that’s really his name,’_ he reminds himself. _’It was a dream, just a drea—’_

“Names Brodrick, but you can call me Bro, Ponyboy, though I’d prefer you moan it.”

“Excuse me?” Horuss sputters. 

Bro grins over the coffee cup, the steam seeping from the hole in the lid making it look like a thin trail of smoke is leaking from the corner of his mouth.

“Come on, man.” Dirk hooks an arm in Horuss’. The solid warmth makes it easier to settle back into himself. “This prick can have the coffee. Don’t know what I might catch from him.”

“Good to know you catch.”

Dirk can’t see Bro’s eyes behind his shades, but he can feel the way they rake over him.

“Why you—” Horuss starts.

“Nope, come on,” Dirk steers him away, though barely. Horuss is damn strong. “You can protect my womanly honor another time. We’ve got class.” 

Horuss throws one last glare behind him but starts to walk with Dirk instead of against him.

“See ya ‘round, Duck,” Bro calls.

Both Dirk and Horuss halt with a jolt. Horuss whirls around, mouth opened to say something, but Bro is already walking away. His back recedes into the crowd of college students; tight jeans catching a few bleary eyes as he passes through the gaggle of students.

“How do you know him?” Horuss asks, and shit, Dirk’s not sure he’s ever heard his voice that tight before.

“I don’t.” It’s hard to keep the tremor out of his voice, but he manages. “Ran into him yesterday on the way to class. He’s a creepy fucker.”

“No shit.”

The curse tears Dirk’s attention from Bro as he looks up and finds Horuss glaring into the sea of students. Dirk realizes that there is a pressure around his wrist, and when he looks down. Horuss is holding his arm; his pinky and ring finger wrapped around the heel of Dirk’s palm.

“Doing okay there?” Dirk keeps his voice soft.

Horuss blinks and looks down at Dirk, then at their hands, and quickly jerks away.

“Sorry.”

“Wasn’t complaining,” Dirk replies with a small smile. 

Horuss’s skin is rosy from his neck to his ears. They stand like that; Dirk’s hand tingling as it stays slightly outward. After a few moments, when Dirk finds it clear that Horuss isn’t going to take his hand back, he lets it fall to his side. It’s hard to ignore the way Horuss sags at the motion.

“Come on, let’s go,” he says as he shoves his hands into his hoodie. “Professor’s not going to stall the lecture just for us.”

Horuss nods, face still pink, and falls into step next to Dirk. After only a few yards, Dirk finds a cup in front of him.

“Here, you need it more than I do this morning.”

Dirk takes the cup, the smell of Horuss’ hell brew and creamer filling his nose.

“You sure?” It’s more a formality seeing as the cup is already pressed to his mouth. 

“Of horse, and don’t whinny, you won’t catch anything from me.”

Dirk snorts a bit into the coffee. “Dude, really? While I’m drinking?” Still, he smiles. Horuss seems to relax a little.

“Have to get that brain of yours trotting somehow.” Horuss bumps him gently with his shoulder as they walk into the lecture hall. 

“Punny, dude. Remind me to take up more of your time. Meulin is rubbing off on you.”

“Just her clawfur wit.”

Dirk takes a long drink of coffee to keep from laughing and winces. 

“Jesus, it’s like drinking grounds.”

“There’s creamer.”

“Yeah, a drop.”

“I can take it back.”

Dirk pulls the cup away as Horuss reaches for it. 

“Hey didn’t say that. I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth after all.”

Horuss’ stifles a snigger.

“But we should probably split this,” Dirk adds, “Or my heart might try and gallop out of my chest.”

Horuss gives a tired, but thankful smile as they walk in and take their seats.

Dirk sets the coffee in between them, and throughout the lecture, they both sip from it. Every time he sips after Horuss, Dirk finds the coffee just a little more palatable.

\-----------

The next few classes are more like a slideshow. Without the bitter tang of Horuss’ coffee, or his ever-present elbow, Dirk finds himself only catching snippets of his classes. At one point he finds himself walking into speech but leaving chemistry. He has no idea if he turned in the homework or not. Hell, he can’t even remember if he did the homework. Guess he’ll find out on the student portal; if he can even think to do that.

His feet carry him back towards his dorm at a shuffle, his body feeling like a double imprint on the world instead of one whole being. He makes his way around the back of the building, heading for one of the secondary entrances, the one closest to the back elevators. Fuck the stairs. Walking up those right now sounds like a horrible idea. Usually, thinking that makes him smile with a particularly catchy _Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff_ quote in his head, but even that is fuzzy and far away. 

“You’re looking down, duckie.”

Dirk doesn’t have the energy to suppress his jump.

“Didn’ mean to ruffle your feathers,” Bro drawls as he stands against the building’s wall. There is a strong smell of smoke, though Dirk doesn’t see a cigarette.

Dirk pushes himself forward. _’Don’t engage,’_ Dirk thinks to himself. He’s almost home. All he has to do is shove the door closed behind him, and this prick will be left out in the metaphorical cold.

“Come on, you still mad about this morning?”

_’Ignore him, just fucking ignore him.’_

“Fine, guess I’ll go see if Ponyboy wants to play.”

Dirk whirls around without an actual thought in his head, just a bolt of panic and rage. 

“The fuck do you want?” It comes out sharper than even he expects, but Bro just gives him that infuriating smirk.

“Got a taste of you this morning, and let me tell ya, you go well with pumpkin,” Bro replies as he pushes off the wall and steps forward. Dirk feels the need to back up, but he manages to keep his feet planted. He may be exhausted, but he’s not about to let this fucker push him around.

“Made me want another bite.” Bro drags his tongue over his teeth. It would possibly be sensual if it weren't so damn predatory. 

Dirk feels whatever retort he had on his tongue die as he thinks to himself, _’Another?’_

Bro’s hand moves with the same quickness as it had with the cup, grabbing Dirk’s wrist and turning it almost painfully to show the heart-shaped bruise.

“Came out better than I’d hoped,” Bro mutters. 

Dirk’s heart is thudding in his ears. The sound is too loud, meaning he misheard Bro, right? He had to have misheard him. If he hadn’t then—

Bro’s shades slide down just a fraction to let one eye show, the pupil glowing dull like a smoldering coal. It catches Dirk’s gaze, holds it, and he finds himself drifting. He knows Bro has his wrist, but he can’t quite feel it, can’t quite get his limbs to move as he watches Bro raise his arm while simultaneously lowering his head.

_’Stop!’_ he screams in his head. _’Let me go! Don’t!’_ The words stay caught somewhere in his chest as Bro’s mouth presses to the pulse of his wrist and sucks against the bruise.

The pain is sharp, the tongue hot, and Dirk feels his molecules catch onto reality just enough that he’s able to rip his arm back and stumble away.

“Awww, come on. Now look what’cha did.”

Dirk doesn’t respond as he stares at the red that paints Bro’s sharp smile. He grips his wrist, the skin beneath his fingers hot and sticky. He can feel something hysterical trying to bubble up between his lips.

“Can’t tease me with just a sip like that.” Bro reaches for him.

Dirk books it backward and towards the rear door, not caring how uncool it is to stumble over his own feet.

“Come on, Dirk. Gonna let me in some time, why not now?” Bro calls after him.

Dirk says nothing as he fumbles with his student ID, swipes it, and ducks into his hall. He slams the door shut, eyes wide as he searches the back courtyard. 

He sees nothing but bike racks.

“Dude, the fuck happened to you?”

Dirk turns to find someone he doesn’t know staring at him, or more precisely, the hand hugged to his chest.

“Fell,” he manages as he turns and heads for the elevators.

“Jesus, man,” the guy mutters behind him before calling after him, “Hey! You got blood on the door handle! Yo, douche, clean this shit up!”

Dirk doesn't pay attention, just rings for the lift and tries not to notice the slight red smudge he leaves on the button.

Thankfully, no one gets in with him, and he gets to the fourth floor with no other incident. Most students are out enjoying the oncoming fall weather or headed to the dining halls. Dirk makes a beeline for the bathroom.

The water that floods over his wrist is icy and sharp. He hisses as he watches the red run down the drain.

“Fuck,” he pants. As he reaches for the soap dispenser, there is a flash of orange behind him that sends him staggering. He pushes his back against the mirror, eyes darting around, and presses his hurt wrist to his chest.

There is nothing but the grey and green tiles of the bathroom.

“Pull it together,” he pants. “Just...pull it together.”

His wrist throbs as he eases it back under the water and goes about cleaning the shallow cut; a serrated line down the center of the heart-shaped bruise.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting a little graphic this time round. Warning ya now.

“So you’re telling me some guy is stalking you around campus, assaulted you, and stole your coffee.”

Dave’s not asking him, he’s telling him, and if Dirk hadn’t just told him that story a few moments ago, he’s pretty sure he wouldn’t believe it himself.

“Can you call less than forty-eight hours stalking?” Dirk asks, his bandaged wrist pressed into his thigh. He doesn’t want this to be a big deal, but he needs to talk to someone, and seeing as his mom and dad are both six feet under and strewn across their favorite prairie in Texas —respectively—, his older brother is all he’s got. 

“No idea, but I can call him biting you fucking assault.”

“Mr. Strider, we nee—”

There is a rustling on the other end of the phone, followed by Dave’s muffled voice.

“What have I told you to do when I’m on the phone?” A muffled reply follows. “Tell them to extend the break. I’m sure Stiller would love a coffee that didn’t come from one of the carafes.”

Dirk feels a pang of guilt. He hates calling Dave when he’s in the middle of a shoot, but shits going down and he’s not about to call his Aunt Rose. She’d show up with her knitting needles freshly sharpened and his airsoft wielding cousin, Roxy. At least with Dave, he knows he won’t randomly show up on campus with some random blade.

At least he fucking hopes not. Once had been enough, even if the sword had been a fake.

“Sorry, I swear, if I’m not directing every little thing these guys forget how to take their own shits.”

“Sounds messy. Maybe you should record a tutorial for them.”

“Maybe, would probably be my crowning achievement in film. But enough shit talking, do I need to send out a couple of bodyguards?”

“Yeah, because that’s going to help me keep a low profile,” Dirk grumbles. 

“Hey, I’d say I’ve kept you out of the limelight pretty damn well so far.”

"Yeah, except for the last name."

"Meaning?"

“How many Strider’s do you know on this planet?”

Dave goes quiet.

“Exactly," Dirk sighs.

“Are you getting shit on campus still?” Dave's voice is even, but Dirk knows him well enough to feel the energy of anger buzzing beneath it. Not at him, of course. Dave being angry at him has a whole different feel to it.

“No, that blew over pretty quick once people realized I wasn’t going to hand out signed merch and get them into one of your movies. Other than the ‘I saw Strider!’ on campus posts I see sometimes, people pretty much leave me alone.”

“So, do you think this guy is an off-campus fan?”

Dirk shakes his head, not caring if Dave can’t see it. “No, doesn’t feel like one of your usual movie fanboys. He hasn’t even mentioned you, so don’t worry.”

“I’d be worrying less if he _was_ a fan,” Dave replies. Dirk can practically see him pinching at the bridge of his nose, just above where his rounded shades sit. “Has he done anything else?”

 _’He’s infiltrated my dreams and left a heart-shaped hicky on me in my sleep,’_ he thinks.

“No. Just the following me around and weird wrist biting thing.”

“And stealing the sweet ambrosia that is a pumpkin spice latte.”

“Yeah,” Dirk replies with a slight smirk. “That too.”

“If you see him again, report him. I know you like keeping it on the down-low out there in the middle of nowhere and want to take care of it yourself, but last thing I want is my lil’bro becoming some campus statistic.”

“Yeah...okay.”

“No ‘yeah,' yes. Seriously, Dirk. I know we’re all into that smooth machismo and swag shit, but don’t let that get in the way of getting some creepy fuck off the streets. That and…” Dave trails off.

“And what?”

There is a heavy sigh on the other end of the line. “I hate to fucking say this, but maybe you should start packing one of those kuni things you collect. I know you probably snuck a few in. God knows you tried to get that sword in there.”

“Katana.”

“Shitty Kill-Bill replica.”

Dirk sits bolt upright. “Hey, I thought you said that it was from the set!” 

“Aaaaaand I’ve got to go.”

“Dave, it came with a certificate of authenticity.”

“What’s that, Stiller? Ready for another long night of shooting? Gonna kick some ass, takes some names, and make that B roll weep?”

“Dave.”

“Just kidding, lil’bro. It’s authentic.”

Dirk sighs. “Don’t scare me like that.”

“What else are big Bros for?”

A shudder runs through Dirk.

“Hey,” Dave's voice is slightly softer. “Seriously though. Stay safe, if you need one, keep a blade on you, and report this Brodick fuck.”

“Brodrick.”

“Like I said, Brodick.”

Dirk smiles gently. “Okay, Dave.”

“Good. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go direct the best damn scat explanatory film known to man, staring mwah.”

“Make sure to eat plenty of corn, ya know, for the color balance.”

“And you say you never listen to me when I talk shop.”

Dirk smiles and shakes his head. “Bye, Dave.”

“Later, lil’bro.” The phone disconnects and Dirk stares down at the screen, the little red phone icon blinking up at him.

There’s a knock on the door before Horuss pushes his head in.

“Are you off the phone?” he asks quietly. 

“You know you don’t have to wait out there when I talk to Dave, right?”

Horuss shrugs. “You do the same for me.”

Dirk opens his mouth, closes it, then smiles gently. “Wanna go get dinner?”

“Was about to ask you the same.”

Dirk stands and gives a stretch. “Which line should we go through?” he asks as he heads for the door. 

“Burgers?” Horuss asks as he steps out the door and out of sight.

“Yeah, that sounds good.” He pauses next to his closet with Dave's voice in his head. 

_’Stay safe.'_

Quick as he can, Dirk dips his hand into a drawer. The kunai spins on his finger once before he shoves it into his hoodie pocket. 

“Just don’t do that weird thing with BBQ sauce again, ” he says as he steps into the hall.

“BBQ sauce and mayonnaise were made for burgers,” Horuss replies. 

Dirk makes a little gagging sound. “Yep, there it went, I haven’t even eaten it yet, and I’ve already lost my dinner.”

Horuss gives him a pointed look as he locks the door. 

“You’re insufferable sometimes; you know that?”

“Yet you suffer me.”

Horuss smiles. “It’s far from suffering.”

Dirk can’t find a comeback for that. He’s smiling a bit too much.

\------------

_The bell above the church tolls, the sound hollow and strange. It sends a reverberation of dread down through Dirk._

_The priest stares at the ceiling. “What? It’s too early for-”_

_“Please!”_

_It is almost here. Even inside the church, he won’t be safe. It is almost there. He can feel it, breathing down his neck even if it is stuck outside the door._

_Around them, the candles on the altars start to flare and blink out._

_“Father.” Dirk's voice comes out as a whimpering beg._

_The priest turns back to him, fear on his face, though he manages to steel himself._

_“What is it, my child.” His voice is shaking._

_“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. I-I can’t remember my last confession.” Tears are sliding down his cheeks._

_“That’s alright, it’s not too late,” the priest urges. “Go on, so we may be rid of the foulness that follows.”_

_Dirk opens his mouth, and there is a crash. Above them, the wooden roof bows. A steel rim can be seen. The bell is no longer tolling. He stares up at it, wide-eyed, like looking at the sharpened mouth of a blade smiling down upon him._

_“Brodrick,” the priest grabs his shoulders, “confess your sins.”_

_“I—”_

Dirk jerks awake, though he stays laying down. He is hot and cold all at once; his body on fire while sweat cools on his exposed skin. All of his sheets are kicked down near the end of the bed.

“Aw, you were just getting to the best part.”

Dirk jerks up against the wall, eyes wide, and he finds two glowing dots across the room. 

“How did you get in here,” he hisses. They had closed the windows, much to Horuss’s dismay, but a few good turns of a wrench on the radiator had ridden them of the oppressive heat.

“Hey, you only had to invite me in once.”

“I never invited you in.” Dirk’s hand pats underneath his pillow, looking for his blade. 

“Take note, lil’man. Open windows and doors are always an invitation.” Bro seems to ooze out of the shadows, the dark attempting to cling to him as the light from the streetlamp below battles it back with its orange glow. “So’s a lack of clothing.” Dirk sees Bro’s tongue lick over a flash of teeth. 

He grabs at his sheets and pulls them over his bare chest.

“Wasn’ talking 'bout you.”

“Wha—”

“He ain’t half bad without a shirt on, is he?” The coals of Bro’s eyes are looking down.

Dirk’s body moves to vault off the bed only to find himself pinned up against the wall; his head cocked awkwardly as it presses into the ceiling. 

“Aw, come on, like you ain’t spent a few sleepless hours looking down at all that skin. Tan motherfucker, ain’t he?” Bro disappears from sight, forcing Dirk to crane his neck as he tries to look down. He can just barely see the top of Bro’s ballcap. 

“Hell of a muscle tone, too. Bet he’s damn good at metal working.”

Dirk hears a little groan from beneath them, half asleep and muffled.

“Tastes good too.”

“Leave him alone,” Dirk snarls, body battling whatever is holding him back.

“What’ll you give me?”

The coals are back and burning on him, Bro’s hair fin-like as it peaks over the side of the loft. 

“Horuss,” he calls. “Horuss, wake up!”

“Come on, kid, you know he ain’t getting up. He can’t hear you like that anyways.”

_’Like what?!’_

Dirk looks around and freezes. He’s sitting up, he can feel himself sitting up, but he’s also sitting in the middle of someone’s chest; _his_ chest.

“I-is that—”

“You’re body, mmm-hmmm.” Bro’s hand snakes through the rail of the loft and slides up the left thigh of Dirk’s sleeping body. He can feel the fingers dance up his skin, and he writhes in whatever invisible grasp keeps him against the wall. 

“This isn’t real,” he pants.

“Oh, isn’t it?” Bro pulls Dirk’s wrist, the bandaged one, between the slats of the rail and tears off the band-aid. Dirk winces as he feels the sticky tape tear away. He cries out when he feels a mouth on the flesh.

“Bro,” he whines as he fights to move. His wrist throbs with heat, and not unpleasantly. Bro’s tongue worries as the thin scab on his wrist and his teeth pluck at the skin. “Stop.”

To his surprise, Bro does.

“Whatever you say.” Bro drops his arm, leaving it to hang over the side of the bed. He feels an odd sensation of the arm by his side being pinned to the wall and the one on his body hanging in the air. “Let’s see if Ponyboy is up to playing.”

Bro disappears again, and almost immediately there is a groan below. It doesn’t sound unhappy at all.

“Stop it!” Dirk yells as he hears the obscenely wet sound of a mouth on skin; kissing it’s way to who knows where.

“Hey, you’re not willing to play.” More wet sounds and then the rustle of fabric. “Hello there. Gonna be fun trying to swallow that.”

Dirk clenches his jaw, closes his eyes, and draws his hands into tight fists. “Alright,” he says between his teeth. “What do you want?”

There is no response, no sound, and Dirk forces himself to look up. Bro’s eyes bore into his, his teeth backlit by heat.

“I want to learn this body of yours,” Bro replies, his hand slithering over Dirk’s lower bell. “That too much to ask?”

 _’Yes’._ Dirk thinks.

“Fine.”

Bro’s grin grows obscenely wide as he floats upwards until his head is almost touching the ceiling. His hand shoots out and grabs Dirk’s arm, the one belonging to whatever the fuck he is right now.

“Let’s go then.”

Dirk is jerked forward, down, and the last thing he sees is his own sleeping face before darkness swallows him. He fights it, feels it fill him, and only stops when there is a growl in his ear. 

“I can still go get Ponyboy.” 

Dirk goes limp and lets the dark pull him down. It takes all of forever and no time before lights appear; dozens of lights. 

The ruined interior of a church manifests before him, candles and small fires ablaze around the large bell sitting in the center of a dozen or so broken pews. Dirk looks up and sees clouds ghosting over a dull, gibbous moon. 

“Ah, memories,” Bro sighs into his ear. Fingers dance up Dirk’s bare chest and down against his lower belly. He becomes painfully aware of his nudity as nails rake through his pubic hard and over the base of his cock. “Though I guess you haven’t gotten this far, have ya?”

“What are you talking about?” There is no way to keep the tremor out of his voice. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Bro’s mouth ghosts over his ear, “You’ll get there soon enough.” The hand on his groin grips the root of his dick and squeezes. Dirk gives a choked gasp as Bro starts to stroke him. 

“Almost done growing,” Bro murmurs against him. “Glad I still found you in the twink stage. Least I think I’m using that word right.” He puffs a hot laugh over Dirk’s ear. “That’s what you are, right? A twink.”

Dirk bites his lip as he grabs Bro’s wrists. He wants to tug the hands off of him, badly, but he forces himself to just hold them in his stiff fingers. 

“Good to know my size got past on, at least,” Bro adds, not seeming to care that Dirk is holding his wrist. Dirk’s cock grows from the stimulation alone, stiffening beneath Bro’s fingers as he pumps Dirk's shaft and then swirls the palm of his hand over the head. His other hand tweaks one of Dirk’s nipples, pulling a surprised sound from Dirk’s throat and a shudder through his body. “Oh, I’m going to play you like a fiddle.” Dirk doesn’t have to see Bro’s face to hear the smile. Against his back, Dirk can feel Bro’s cock grow hard; the base pressed into the cleft of his ass. He ruts against Dirk, sliding his cock between the cheeks of his backside, and Dirk bites back a sound that tries to escape. 

“Come on, let me hear ya,” Bro mutters against Dirk’s throat, teeth nipping. “Always like the sound of my own voice.”

“F-fuck you,” Dirk grunts. It is followed by a choked gasp as Bro pinches him again. 

“That would be fun for you now wouldn’t it, you little sodomite.” Teeth threaten to break the flesh of Dirk’s neck as Bro bites and sucks into the tendon that connects to Dirk’s shoulder. 

Dirk’s throat fails to hold in the sound this time, and groans pour out of him as Bro fists his cock, grinds into his ass, pinches his chest and bites his throat. 

“There we go,” Bro murmurs. “That’s what I want to hear.”

Dirk closes his eyes tight and feels moisture. He hates this, he fucking hates this, but his body betrays him, and he finds his legs shaking as orgasm looms. 

“There we go,” Bro murmurs as he lets go of Dirk’s chest. Dirk falls forward slightly, hands jolting out to catch himself, and he finds wood grain beneath his fingers. That hadn’t been there before.

Looking up, Dirk finds himself partially bent over the pulpit, now facing the church from the opposite side. From here, he can see an arm sticking out from beneath the brim of the large bell. The arm is wrapped in black cloth that seems to bleed into the pool of blood beneath.

_“Brodrick, confess your sins.”_

Dirk tries to recoil back before he is pushed down against the wood.

“Ah-ah. We ain’t done yet.” 

The hand around Dirk’s cock disappears only to press against his ass.

“No,” Dirk grunts as the fingers, suddenly slick, press against him.

“Shhh, relax. I want it to feel good.”

Dirk goes to say something only for the whole sentence to come out as a gasp. Bro’s finger slides in quickly, deep, and pain blooms beneath the unwanted pleasure that had been taking root in his groin. 

“Damn, ain’t your first time, is it?” There is a smile in his voice. “Good to know ya get around.”

“Sh-shut up, I—” Another gasp as the finger in him starts to pump roughly. Dirk grabs the sides of the pulpit as the hand behind him works him open. He grits his teeth and hates how little pain there is when a second finger is added. 

“Gonna swallow me down easy, aren’t ya,” Bro cooes. “Just as hungry as before.”

Dirk pushes his face into the pulpit. _’Before?’_ he asks himself. He feels sick. 

He is not prepared for the cock that slides inside him as the fingers slide out. 

“Yeeeees,” Bro groans. His words are hot on Dirk’s back. “Shit, I had no idea you’d be this good.” Bro grabs Dirk’s hips as Dirk’s hands scramble to get a better grip on the pulpit. He’s splitting open, and not in pain. It is a delicious feeling that makes him sick to his stomach.

Bro jerks his hips upward, hard, and Dirk cries out before snapping his mouth shut. A hand slaps his ass, and Dirk's jaw clenches tighter; his eyes are shut tight.

“Come on, if you won’t make noise for me, make it for him.” Bro grabs Dirk’s hair and forces his head up. Through his watering eyes, Dirk finds Horuss standing in front of the bell. He wears nothing but the bronze expanse of his skin and dark hair down his back; his cock hangs heavy and half hard. Bro was right; he is massive.

There is a pulse of heat in his groin that isn’t caused by Bro.

Dirk forces himself to look up at Horuss’s face. He can barely see the dark blue of Horuss’ irises his pupils are blown so wide.

“Horuss?” he whines, throat tight. 

Horuss walks forward hesitantly. 

Bro jerks in hard and makes Dirk cry out. It sets the pace as he is driven forward into the pulpit.

“Dirk!” Horuss stumbles forward and grabs Dirk’s cheeks. “Shhh, Dirk.” Calloused thumbs pet over his cheeks, wiping away the tears tenderly as Bro assaults him from behind. “I’m here, I’m here, it’s okay.” 

“Horuss,” he whines, hands reaching over the pulpit to grab at him. Horuss pulls him to him, at least as much of him as he can with the wood in the way, and holds him. 

“I’ve got you, shh, I’ve got you.”

Dirk clings to him, tears running down his cheeks.

“Now ain’t this a pretty sight,” Bro pants behind them.

Horuss makes a sound like a growl and tries to pull Dirk closer.

“What, you want to switch, Ponyboy? I’m sure he’d enjoy that. Wouldn't you, Duck?”

Dirk lets out a whine as he crushes his face into Horuss’s chest. He’s shuddering, orgasm looming as he pants into Horuss. Strong arms keep a hold on his upper body. 

Horuss’s hands try to pull Dirk to him again, not seeming to care about the wood separating them.

“Thought so,” Bro grunts. “Gonna have to wait your turn, seeing as he’s almost done.”

Dirk cries out as Bro’s hand wraps around his cock. 

“Stop it,” Horuss hisses. 

“Nah,” Bro pants. “Too close for that.”

Bro’s next thrusts are deep, sharp, and bruise Dirk’s hips against the pulpit.

“Horuss,” he whines as he grabs at him. “Horuss, I—”

“Shhhh, shhh,” Horuss lifts his head with a warm hand. “I’ve got yo—”

Dirk pulls him down by the hair, it’s all he can reach, but it gets him what he wants. Horuss makes a surprised sound as Dirk whines into his mouth, hands gripping his shoulders, and he cums. 

“There it is,” Bro pants. “There it fucking is.” Bro continues to fuck him through orgasm as Dirk sloppily kisses Horuss, who fumbles to kiss him back. 

“Hold him tight.” Bro’s words are strained and the only warning before he cums, hot and messy, inside Dirk. The heat reaches places Dirk didn’t think possible, and he screams as he feels like he’s being melted from the inside.

“Stop it!” Horuss shouts as he tries to pull Dirk towards him. “Stop it!” 

Dirk thrashes and claws at Horuss, leaving dull scratches against Horuss’s chest and forearms. Dirk's hips grind against the wood as he tries to pull himself away from Bro. 

“No problem,” Bro replies as he suddenly stops. “I’m done.”

Dirk lets out a cry of anguish as Bro slams in one last time and then rips himself out. He claws at the air, hands grasping. Where did Horuss go? Where—

“Dirk!”

Dirk looks around as he hears a heavy thud. The dorm room is cast in odd shadows that reach for him. He scuttles back against the wall, hands tight on his sheets. Horuss pulls himself up the side of the loft, eyes frantic. He hits his head on the ceiling but doesn’t seem to care as he reaches for Dirk.

“Dirk, are you okay? Are you—”

Dirk lunges for him; face pressed into his sweat-coated chest, and sobs.

“”What happened?” Horuss asks as he pets his head. “I had a nightmare and then heard you screaming and—” He cuts off with a hiss as Dirk’s pushes against one of his pecs. 

Horuss pushes him back and looks down.

“What the hell.” Horuss’s words are shaky.

“Horuss,” Dirk sobs as he follows Horuss’s eyes down. There are scratches all over Horuss’s chest. 

“It was a dream,” Horuss murmurs. “Dirk.” He looks up, blue eyes wide. “It was a dream, right? It was just a dream.” 

Dirk can’t help the shudder of sobs that wrack him as his insides burn.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little delay getting this out, but it is finally done! Apologies if I missed anything in edits. I've been on cold medicine for about a week.
> 
> Here is the lovely [corresponding Image for this chapter](http://glass-hearts-art.tumblr.com/post/169336548032/illustration-for-chapter-5-of-body-and-soul-links) by glass-hearts-art!

Horuss has to take most of Dirk’s weight as they head down the hall. The 3 AM crowd is nonexistent, the few who may have found booze passed out and others either asleep or pouring their midnight oil into the internet.

“Didn’t know you had it in ya, Strider!” Someone whoops behind them, which he ignores. He’s more concerned with keeping one hand wrapped around Horuss’ shoulders. Everything in him feels weak, feverish, and the hallway sways beneath his feet.

“You two finally fuck!?” Comes after it.

Dirk makes an odd sound in his throat as muffled calls of ‘Shut up, Tuna,’ come ringing from nearby doors.

“It would be of no consequence to you, Captor,” Horuss snaps over his shoulder. It gets a crazed laugh before Mituna is yanked into a dorm room and the door is forcefully closed.

The boxer clad boys stumble into a shower stall a few moments later, Horuss sitting Dirk down in the transient room between the shower stall and bathroom; hanging their towels up and setting down the small basket of washing supplies. Dirk pushes into the cold tile behind his back and trembles. Cold water mists onto his face as Horuss turns on the shower.

“Keep it cold,” Dirk pants as he goes to get up. Strong arms catch him as he tilts. Horuss pushes a hand to his forehead before giving a quick nod. 

Dirk does not expect Horuss to climb under the cold water with him; jerking the second, opaque privacy curtain into place behind them; enough to see the shapes of their stuff, but not enough to see any detail.

“W-what are you—”

“Washing you.” Horuss pushes at the soap dispenser on the wall, the 3 in 1 hair, body, and face wash pooling in his palm. It fills the stall with a sharp, chemically floral and musky scent that is held by most budget soaps. He pushes the handful into Dirk’s hair and starts to massage it in. 

“You don’t—”

“You can barely stand, Dirk,” the fingers keep going, “and I am not about to abandon you on the floor.”

Dirk doesn’t fight it, though he does try and stay steady on his feet by bracing his hands against the far wall. Horuss keeps one arm wrapped tight around his waist as they stand in now soaked boxers beneath the cool spray. 

The fingers in his hair push and itch at his scalp, thoroughly scraping away day-old gel, sweat, and whatever else is stuck to his skin. Dirk pants through his nose and tries to focus on the pressure instead of the curled ache of achieved orgasm that still sits low in his loins. It is a coiling heat that radiates up into him, chilling his skin and making him shake. The frigidness of the water isn’t getting deep enough.

He lifts his head and lets the cold water fill his mouth. It has a hard, mineral tang to it, but Dirk doesn’t care as he lets the water fill his mouth and then swallows it down.

“You’re going to get soap in your mouth,” Horuss warns.

“Don’ care.” Dirk goes to get more water but is turned around instead.

“Let me rinse it first,” Horuss grunts as he finds himself having to catch Dirk’s body after the simple movement, frocing him to pull Dirk into his chest before they are both stable again. Dirk fights to keep from going limp as Horuss’s fingers make quick work of the suds under the shower’s spray. The arm around Dirk’s lower back tightens as he is shifted and Dirk grips at Horuss's shoulders to stay standing.

_’Hold him tight.’_

Dirk shoves Horuss back, causing them both to stumble, though Horuss manages to keep them both upright by tugging Dirk into him and throwing an arm up above Dirk’s head and against the shower wall. Dirk’s hands stay on Horuss’ chest, fingers curling into the red welts from before.

“Are you alright?” Horuss pants, blue eyes wide and concerned. 

“I—” The syllable comes out dry despite how much water he had just swallowed. Water runs down Horuss’ hair, sending the long strands cascading down from his shoulders to hang around both of them like a curtain. Dirk can smell nothing but soap and the tang of morning breath as they pant, but he’s more painfully aware of how Horuss is pushed into his hip; he’s still half hard.

“It’s okay,” Horuss says as he tries to reposition them, the line of his cock shifting with Dirk’s hip. “I’ve got you.” 

Bile raises on the back of Dirk’s throat at the same time as his spent cock twitches against Horuss’ thigh. 

Horuss freezes, eyes widening. Water trails down his cheeks and drips from his chin down onto Dirk’s chest.

“I—”

_”-you want to switch, Ponyboy? I’m sure he’d enjoy that.”_

Horuss visibly swallows as they stand under the cold water, though Dirk feels anything but cold. Every place Horuss touches him is hot; hotter than the seed inside him. 

“Dirk,” Horuss tries again. “I’m sor—”

Dirk’s fingers find the back of his head, twist into his hair, and pull him down. Horuss lets out a whine and tries to pull back, but Dirk’s mouth crushes into his. He sucks on Horuss’ lower lip, laps at his mouth, and after a few moments the other relents and sinks into the kiss. Their mouths slide against one another until, with sudden forcefulness, Horuss' tongue slides into Dirk’s mouth. Water runs down their faces and between their lips, following the curls of their tongues as Horuss crushes Dirk between him and the shower wall; his large hands settling on Dirk's hips. 

A sharp cry slips from Dirk as the bruises Bro had left behind are moulded into something new by Horuss’ hands. 

The kiss breaks.

“Dirk,” he pants as he pulls back. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t— I don’t want—”

“I can still feel him.” The words are tight as he tries to pull Horuss back into him. “Get rid of him, please.” He pushes Horuss’s palm back against his hip, makes it flex tight around the bruise. 

“Dirk,” Horuss murmurs gently. Dirk can feel how hard he is now, how long he is against his hip, and if he were to slide inside him, he’s sure that Horuss would go past where Bro had ended. He would displace everything Bro had put inside him, drag it out, clean—

“This isn’t right, Dirk.” He tries to pull back, not away, just back. Dirk doesn’t try to pull him in again but instead clings. If he lets go, he’s not sure his feet will support him. He presses his face into Horuss’ neck, pushes himself into his body instead of trying to pull Horuss’ against his.

“Please,” he begs, gently. “Just...just something. It’s burning me up.” 

“What is?” Concern radiates from Horuss.

“His— he came—” Dirk shudders as he finds himself focussing on the heat inside himself.

The arms around him suddenly tighten; one tight around his upper body, the other clamped over his hip. 

“Get it out.” The words are almost stolen by the sounds of the shower. He can’t look up at Horuss, refuses to, and he can tell from the way Horuss’ cheek pushes against his temple that Horuss is doing his best not to look down at him.

The arm around his waist disappears, and for a moment Dirk is afraid that Horuss might just leave him in the shower to do it himself, but instead finds the water at his back growing in temperature.

“Is that okay?” Horuss asks softly.

Dirk nods.

“You’ll tell me if it hurts?”

Dirk nods again.

The cloth of his boxers falls away quickly when Horuss tugs at them, the fabric swollen with water. Dirk finds he doesn’t have the energy to step out of them. He slides his feet out a little wider, and Horuss keeps him standing with the hand that crushes him to his chest.

Long, calloused finger slide down the cleft of his ass, rubbing gently at the skin between before prodding at his entrance. 

“I-It’s slick,” Horuss stammers.

Dirk gives a whimper and pushes himself closer to Horuss.

“How?”

“I don’t know,” Dirk whispers. He traces one of the welts that are fading from Horuss’ chest and feels him shudder. 

Horuss pushes up gently, his middle finger breaching Dirk just slightly. Heat blooms in his ass, the assaulted muscle unsure of how to react. Dirk hisses.

“I can stop.”

“No,” Dirk replies as he tries to open his legs a wider. 

Horuss responds by sliding the digit in a little further. Dirk pants against his chest, but doesn’t tell him to stop. The long, calloused pad slides along his insides, making him shudder as it sinks as deep as it can. It isn’t far enough to reach the heat.

“I need you to turn around,” Horuss says softly.

Dirk shudders as the finger slips from him.

“Okay.” He manages to keep his feet under him, Horuss helping him move out of the sodden boxers. Dirk braces his forearms on the tile, his forehead resting on one. Warm water hits him from the mid-back down, and if not for the tight grip Horuss has on his waist, Dirk isn’t sure he’d be able to stand.

Horuss’ finger returns and Dirk has to bite back a moan this time as it slides in. The new angle allows him deeper, though again not deep enough to get to the core of the heat. He does, however, manage to get in deep enough to find the edge of it.

“Oh my god,” he whispers as his finger pushes against the heat. Some of it sinks down along his finger, and Horuss suddenly pulls out. It startles Dirk, makes him hiss, and Horuss whispers apologies.

“I didn’t expect it to be so…”

“Warm?” Dirk supplies.

“Yeah.” This time, Horuss’ index finger joins the middle, sliding in slowly as Dirk pants against the wall. As soon as they are in as deep as they can go, Horuss spreads them apart, and Dirk feels the heat inside him seep downward.

A groan escapes him as Horuss scissors his fingers. The pushback from Dirk is completely involuntary.

“D-Dirk?”

“Sorry,” he pants. “I—”

Horuss twists his fingers, coaxing the heat out further, and Dirk lets out a moan that he has to quickly bite off. 

“It’s alright,” Horuss says as Dirk fights to keep quiet. “I...I don’t mind.”

Dirk pushes back as the fingers spread again, and this time he feels something against his thigh.

“Horuss,” he groans as he reaches back with one arm. The angle is all wrong, but he manages to trace his fingers over the hard head of Horuss’ dick. A shudder runs up Horuss’s arm and into Dirk. “Y-you can—

“No,” Horuss cuts him off, voice thick. The fingers in him splay and press, though, undermining his conviction. 

“But—”

“We have no protection, and I am not adding to this.” He twists his finger and Dirk feels more heat working its way out of him.

Dirk goes to say something else.

“I’ll be fine,” Horuss murmurs, his free hand giving a gentle squeeze to Dirk’s hip. 

Dirk heaves a small sob as he feels the mix of bruises thrum. He doesn’t listen. Instead, he pushes himself up with one forearm, and reaches back. It’s hard to keep his balance with how he forces his spine to bend, but it is worth it to push his hand inside of wet cloth of Horuss’ boxers and grip his cock. The fingers inside him stutter, and Dirk finds his head spinning as his hand works jerkily to provide Horuss with some stimulation.

“Dirk, you don’t—”

“I want to,” he pants as he keeps stroking Horuss. Sometimes he falters due to a particularly harsh jerk of the digits inside him, but he tries to keep pace with Horuss’s breathing; it rings out deep and harsh under the sound of the shower.

By the time the heat inside Dirk starts dribbling from his hole, he is hard again; groans and moans escaping him freely as Horuss grunts quietly behind him. 

“Oh fuck,” he pants as he feels what seems to be the worst of the heat slip from him, sliding down his thighs as Horuss curls his fingers and drags them along his insides; scraping out what he can. 

“Horuss,” Dirk pants. His hand stutters along Horuss’ shaft as Horuss’ fingers twist, press, and pull down; the heats following them as they threaten to pull out of Dirk fully. They instead plunge back in, press again, and Dirk clenches down on the digits inside him. The orgasm that sizzles through him has him pawing at the tile with both hands, forehead pushed against the tile. Behind him, Horuss gasps and bucks.

“Almost,” Horuss whispers. 

Dirk shudders and breathes in the steamy air. He needs just a moment then he can reach back and work on him, hell, he could probably turn around and—

“Dirk.” His name comes out high and keened. 

Dirk looks over his shoulder and freezes. There is a hand around Horuss’ cock, and it isn’t his. He follows the arm to the thin, opaque curtain. Behind it are two bright, orange embers looking back at him. 

“Never leave a guy hanging,” Bro says as he twists his hand and does something that Horuss undoubtedly likes. 

Horuss cums with a confused cry, body wrapping around Dirk as they both slam into the wall as far from the curtain as possible. Dirk blinks away water while he searches the curtain for Bro, but there is no one there. All he can see is their shower gear sitting on the shelf-seat outside.

“W-was he just…” Horuss trails off as he holds Dirk up, his softening cock pressed into the back of his thigh.

Dirk shudders and nods. “Yeah,” he croaks. 

Horuss helps him stand before leaning away for a moment and then quickly coming back. 

“Here.” He pushes a bar of soap into his hand. “I think I got the worst of it.” He can’t bring himself to look at Dirk, and Dirk is barely able to look at him as well. 

“Thanks,” he says gently. 

Horuss’ hands stay gently on his shoulders. “I need to go make a call, will you be okay being alone for a few minutes?”

“Will you come back?” Dirk asks instead of answering.

He is startled when Horuss leans in and kisses his temple. 

“I’ll be back.” 

Dirk can’t watch him go, opting to stare at the wall. He hears Horuss hurry to dry off and wrap himself in a towel, slip through the second curtain, and head out of the bathroom. 

“Aw, don’t worry, you got him most of the way,” Bro drawls from the other side of the opaque curtain, his grin a dull slash of white in Dirk’s peripheral. 

Dirk closes his eyes and lathers the soap in his hands. He can feel eyes on him as he reaches between his legs and begins to wash away the last of the cum that is dripping out of him. 

“Looks like I’ll need to fill you up again.” Dirk jerks away from phantom hands and laughter that bounces around the bathroom and his skull.

When Horuss returns, he finds Dirk pushed against the shower corner, eyes on the curtains, and a small amount of blood trickling from where he scrubbed himself raw.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look, actual plot.
> 
> The drawing by [glass-hearts-art](http://glass-hearts-art.tumblr.com) that will be connected to this chapter will be added at a later time.

Dirk’s head scrapes against the ceiling tiles, his back against the corner of the room and his body wrapped in blankets. The dorm is small, and he’d rather be in the corner across from him, —at least that one would let him see the entirety of the windows— but that would mean trying to jam himself into Horuss’ cubby of a closet. Closests do not have escape routes. The top of his bunk at least lets him see almost everything, with multiple ways to vault off the top. He doesn’t trust being underneath it; too many places to get trapped. 

The phone next to him buzzes, and Dirk snatches it up. 

electricStallion [ES] began pestering timaeusTestified [TT] 

ES: 8=D I have the sage.  
TT: Great, get back here. I feel like my heart is trying to escape my rib-cage.  
ES: 8=( That is not a good thing.  
TT: Can you stop with the fucking emojis? This is serious.  
ES: 8=( Meulin programmed it into my chat client. If I do not provide a mouth it simply becomes 8=.  
ES: 8= I can try and remove the programming if it’s making you that angry.

Dirk rubs at his bruised wrist and grimaces. 

TT: No, you’re fine. I’m just being a dick.  
TT: Though if you could leave the mouth off, for now, I’d appreciate it.  
ES: 8= I will do my best, though there is a STRONG compulsion to add one.  
TT: Thanks. Are you headed back?

There are a few minutes of silence that make Dirk’s teeth itch, his fingers scratching lightly over the bruise on his wrist. If he pushes, he can feel it burn down into the muscle. He tries not to push.

ES: 8= Sorry, was speaking with Kurloz.   
ES: 8= He refuses to head back until he gets his own ‘herbs’.  
The phone case creaks as Dirk grips it tight in his palm.  
TT: Are you kidding me?   
ES: 8= I wish I was.   
ES: 8= I must say I don’t understand why Meulin continues to speak with this man.  
ES: 8= And I don’t understand how someone in seminary school can be this frigid when he is aware that you are in distress.

Dirk’s heart starts to crawl its way up his throat. He quickly swallows it.

TT: You told him?  
ES: 8= Of course not.  
ES: 8= He simply thinks that you’ve been unable to sleep for a few weeks and that we believe it to be some sort of otherworldly entity.  
ES: 8= To be honest, I don’t blame him for wanting to continue on his normal Saturday routine, as infuriating as it is.

Dirk feels a fraction of ease. He had panicked when Horuss had told him that he had called Meulin for help, but it hadn’t taken much to calm him down. Meulin knew people who were well versed in this kind of shit, it seemed, and Dirk was willing to get help from anyone at this point. That and Horuss had enough discretion not to tell her the finer points of his ‘haunting’. 

TT: Can you talk to Meulin? See if she can get you two out of there?  
ES: 8= I have tried, but I can not get a word in edgewise it seems. They are too busy yelling at one another to seem to notice.  
TT: Yell? I thought they used sign language.  
ES: 8= Yes, well, the terminology still fits.  
ES: 8= I don’t think I’ve ever seen Meulin’s fingers move so quickly. I’m only picking up every third word or so.  
TT: Is she trying to get you two back?  
ES: 8= It seems so, yes, but seeing as it is Kurloz’s car, I doubt he’ll be backing down anytime soon.  
ES: 8= I do hope this isn’t some sort of roundabout way of getting back at her for their breakup.

Dirk shifts and lightning surges up his lower back. He bites down on a pained groan and breathes deeply until the pain subsides. By the time Dirk had finished cleaning himself out he knew he’d been too rough. The blood had told him that, but it had made him feel better in a way; there was nothing left but his own essence. 

His fingers move quickly over his phone’s screen.

TT: Just go do it. Quicker you finish the quicker you can get back and we can do this ‘smudging’ thing.  
ES: 8=\ We’re performing a cleansing, Dirk. Smudging is a religious ritual. We are not performing it as such.  
TT: Cleansing, smudging, I don’t care what we call it I just want whatever the hell is latched onto our slice of campus out of here.  
ES: 8= As do I.

Dirk stares down at the phone until it goes black. 

“This is my fault,” he mutters. Somehow, some way, he brought Bro here. How? He’s not sure, but somehow Horuss has been left to figuring out how to get rid of him.

He looks at his phone screen and flips to another chat.

turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering timaeusTestified [TT]

TG: hey  
TG: havent heard from you tonight  
TG: tall blonde and bitchy still bothering you  
TG: wasn’t kidding when i said id send out a security guard  
TG: could get you a cute one  
TG: start some fanfiction levels of sexual tension between a boy and his bodyguard  
TG: seriously though  
TG: just checking in with you everything going ok  
TG: message me when you get this so i know my little bro isnt in some freaks basement

timaeusTestified [TT] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG]

TT: I’m fine. Just, had a kinda weird night.  
TG: what kinda weird?

His fingers hovor over the digital keys. He could tell Dave, he might think he’s crazy, but he’ll take him seriously. It might take a few minutes to make him realize he’s not joking, but...

TT: Just nightmares. Made it hard to sleep. Kept Horuss up.  
TG: try getting some melatonin  
TG: works wonders when im on set seeing as i need all beautysleep i can get

Dirk stares blankly down at the phone. He’s not sure he _wants_ to sleep right now. A new message appears.

TG: okay whats up  
TG: that was the lowest of low hanging fruit and you didnt even go for a nibble  
TT: Dealing with some shit this morning.  
TG: creeper shit  
TG: you know you can talk to me  
TG: i can come out if you want i know some of the cast could use the break

Dirk chews on his lip as he looks at the offer. Could he really ask Dave to come out here? 

TG: if not me then im sending rose  
TT: I’m fine. Horuss is helping me and we’re taking care of it.  
TG: legally  
TT: Legally. Promise.  
TG: safely

Dirk pauses. Is this safe? Before he can answer, his phone buzzes and he flips to Horuss.

ES: 8= Looks like we’ll be back in just over an hour.  
ES: 8= Will you go alright? I can get a Lyft back.  
TT: You’re doing enough, man. Don’t spend money on a car when you’ve got a ride.  
ES: 8= Are you sure?  
TT: Yeah. I can wait until you get back.  
ES: 8= Alright, but call me if anything happens. I’ll return as soon as I can.  
TT: Thanks, Horuss.  
ES: 8= You’re welcome, Duck.

Dirk feels his chest tighten a little at the nick-name. 

“You are too good for me man,” he mutters down at the phone.

“Aw, you even gonna tell him that?” 

Dirk jerks his head up and looks down into the bedroom. Bro is sitting at Horuss’ desk, his back to Dirk, with his feet up on the desk and hands behind his head. Somehow, Dirk knows that he has his cap pulled down in front of his eyes.  
The kunai goes flying with barely a thought, right for Bro’s head, but it doesn’t make it. Strong fingers grab the hilt out of the air just before the blade hits. Dirk’s hand tightens around a second one, fingers aching from the tight grip.

“Aw, thank ya. Needed a toothpick.” Bro spins himself in the chair until he’s facing Dirk, planting his feet so that his legs are spread wide as he leans back in Horuss’ chair. The cap is still pulled down as he uses the hand knife to pick at his teeth; tongue darting out to lick at the metal now and then. 

“Where’s Ponyboy?” Bro asks before sucking on one of his fangs. Dirk’s eyes dart to the door, and Bro is there, leaning against the wood with his arms crossed and the kunai in hand.

“I get that he’s out, kid, but where?”

“H-how,” Dirk stammers as his eyes dart between Bro and the now empty chair. Whatever idea he might have had about vaulting off the bed to safety disappears. 

There is a heavy thud next to his head, making him jerk to the side. Before Dirk can even attempt to escape his loft, Bro is in front of him. The flames of his burning pupils put the amber of his eyes to shame as he hovers a breath away from Dirk’s face. Dirk feels the hard hilt of the kunai next to his head as he tries to sink backward; he tries not to think about how the walls are made of cinderblocks.

“Where’s Ponyboy?”

Dirk’s phone buzzes. Bro looks down at it, his brow quirks up.

 _”He can’t know what we’re doing.”_ The second he has the though, Dirk reacts. He shoves his second kunai into the phone’s screen, and while he hears something crack, the tip glances off as the phone dips on the bed. 

“Come on now,” Bro grabs the phone and tugs it away from Dirk. “That really necessary?” He taps at the now ruined screen, trying to scroll through the conversation. “Such a fragile little contraption,” he mutters before tossing it over his shoulder. “Good job on fucking up your chances of calling for help.”

Dirk’s throat goes dry as Bro leans in, face split into a grin. He pats around himself, looking for his last kunai when Bro lifts it up.

“Looking for this?” Bro pushes the blade between his lips, tongue wrapping obscenely around the blade before pulling it back into his throat. Dirk watches wide-eyed, waiting for the hilt to stop, but it doesn’t. The metal slides back further and further until Bro closes his lips and Dirk watches the lump of his blade slide down Bro’s throat. 

He shrinks, feels the kunai next to his head, and turns to grab it as quickly as he can only to find the world spinning. All of the air rushes from him as his back hits the floor; time slowing as his lungs try to remember how to pull a breath back in.

“Come on, Duck,” Bro vaults from the bed, his body falling quicker than gravity can pull, and Dirk finds he can see nothing but his face as he looms over him on all fours. “Let’s just cut to the chase.”

He grabs Dirk’s hair and pulls hard, forcing him through another round of whiplash as he is forced upwards, his legs failing to hold him up. The hand that wraps tight under his left arm holds him up instead, making the joint ache as Bro holds him. 

“Wha-” he wheezes and then coughs, his lungs heavily with oxygen. “What do you want?” he finally rasps, his feet starting to learn their purpose again. 

“Aw, you still don’t know?” Bro asks innocently. 

Dirk stares back, mouth open as he pulls in rasping breathes. There isn’t much give to the hand in his hair, but he manages to slowly shake of his bead.  
Bro’s face falls into a scowl.

“Damn, kid. I thought you’d’ve finished rememberin’ by now.”

“Remem—” he rasps in another breath, “—ber what?”

The smile that slowly spreads over Bro’s face makes Dirk’s legs want to give out again. His shoulder pleads with them not to.

“Oh, Ducky boy,” Bro murmurs softly. “I think it’s ‘bout time you got to dreamin.” 

Dirk’s mouth opens in protest but to no effect. As before, he feels the world around him swirl down into a cold pit. Down, down, down until the cold is so strong that he’s—

_“—burning. Every inch of his skin feels as if it is wreathed in flames as he looks up at the priest._

_“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. I-I can’t remember my last confession.” Tears are sliding down his cheeks._

_“That’s alright, it’s not too late,” the priest urges. “Go on, so we may be rid of the foulness that follows.”_

_Dirk opens his mouth and there is a crash. Above them, the wooden roof bows. A steel rim can be seen. The bell is no longer tolling. He stares up at it, wide-eyed, like looking at the sharpened mouth of a blade smiling down upon him._

_“Brodrick,” the priest grabs his shoulders, “confess your sins.”_

_“I—” He swallows hard, his mouth tinged with copper. He needs absolution. If he doesn’t, then it’s over. He’s dead, he’s damned, he—_

_“Tell me, my son, what are your sins?” the priest urges._

_Dirk swallows, and his tongue suddenly feels like it is trying to shred itself._

_“I have cavorted with the damned,” he says. There is blood in his mouth, he can feel it dripping down the corners of his chin. “I fell to my pride. I-I made a deal.” His throat feels like it is blistering._

_“What was it?”_

_Dirk feels liquid on his cheeks, dripping from his eyes, and he can’t tell if it is blood or tears. “The duel,” he gargles. “To win.”_

_“Do you regret this?” The priest kneels with him, grips his shoulder. “Do you repent against what you have done? Did you return your ill-gotten flock?”_

_His mouth opens and shuts, but there is so much pain; his throat too swollen to let air in let alone out._

_“Brodrick! Do you repent against what you’ve done? Did you return the Miller’s sheep?”_

_“Yes,” he croaks. He had taken each one and lifted them over his face —the fence that was promised to never break— and dropped them onto his neighbor's land. Dropped them back where they belonged._

_“Do you renounce Satan and his ways?”_

_“Ye—” the word is lost in a torrent of coughing, blood flying from his mouth. It seems to be enough because the priest continues._

_“Do you accept Christ the Father as the one true God, as your savior and shepherd?”_

_Dirk can’t get the word out, but he nods. He nods for all he is worth and mouths the word; whistles it through his destroyed windpipe._

_The priest reaches into a pocket of his robes and pulls out a flask._

_“Then I say, in the name of the father—” he unscrews the flask, “—and the son,” he positions it above Dirk’s head, “and the holy spirit, that you are absolved. May your soul—”_

_There is a sound of cracking, splintering, and Dirk looks up in time to watch the bell of the church slip between the shredded wood. The priest doesn’t have the time to scream, the bell lands on him, the thick rim of it encompassing Dirk, surrounding him in the dark. The smell of warm viscera fills his nostrils as he listens to the gurgled words of the priest._

_“God take me,” the priest manages. Dirk sobs, heat flashing over his face, burning down his skin as he heaves up bile and burning blood._

_Around him, the bell shudders._

_He’s here._

_“You really thought you could get away?” The voice is harsh, twisted, and Dirk shrinks from it. A hand wraps tight around his burning throat and holds him still. In the dark, eyes that defy all color and swirl them at the same time sharpen into flecks of light._

_“Can’t break a deal with me,” it hisses._

_Dirk sobs silently, eyes bulging as he feels oblivion licking at him. It is hot and pulsing, raging through his body as it consumes him._

_“You’re mine, Brodrick,” the thing musses before a long tongue laps up his cheek. “And I’ve got so many plans for you.”_

_Something shoves hard into his chest, breaking bones and tearing through his lungs as if they are nothing but tattered bundles of straw. His heart thuds against the devil’s palm._

_“Time to come home, Brodrick,” the thing says gleefully. “It’s about bloody time I dragged you down you bastar—” It cuts off just as the heat begins to ebb, the hellish burning subsiding into a dull ache as Dirk shifts within his own skin. There is a tug at his heart, a pull, but it is distant._

_“No. No, you little cunt, you’re mine. That bullshit doesn’t count, you are_ mine _.” Yet Dirk is separating, detaching. Claws card through him like smoke as he lifts away. The bell holds him for a moment, only a moment, and he looks down at what looks like a smoldering corpse, the embers of burning bones illuminating the outlines of a monstrous creature; the face skull-like and ghastly._

_“You don’t get to leave!” it shrieks, reaches for him, but he slips up. Up and up and—_

“Can’t remember anything after that, can ya?”

Dirk pulls in a gasp as he collapses on the floor of the church, body braced before the bell as he stares at the bloody arm of the priest. 

“Well here,” Bro says as he forces Dirk’s head back, eyes focussing on the bell. “Let me show you what happened.”

There is a pause of nothing as he stares at the dull surface of the bell, the copper of it turning green in places. There is a pressure on him that he can’t describe, one that grows; a whisper of steam before the kettle starts to scream.  
The bang rocks through him, the bell flying away to reveal the destroyed body of the priest.He is mangled, his shoulder and part of his rib cage crushed. Dirk stares at him, because if he looks up, he doesn’t think he’ll survive.

“Come on,” Bro says as he grabs his hair tight and forces his head back even more. “Don’t you wanna to see?”

He doesn’t. Seeing is knowing, and he’s never wanted to know. But there’s the knowledge, forbidden and tantalizing as he watches a mass of bones unfold; multicolored eyes wide and a skull caught in a silent scream of rage.  
“Bastard!” The sound hits him backward, imploding the shudders of the church and sending splinters around him. “He’s mine!” The creature clutches at the bloody, burnt out corpse; the fist in its chest forcing out gore around the wrist. “I bought him! Body and soul! Body and—” It pauses. “Body.” Dirk never thought a skull could grin, but that’s the only thing he can think as he watches its jaw stretch in ways it should not. “Oh, and you thought you could keep me from perverting this little bastard of yours,” it murmurs. There is a crack as the fist inside twists and brings the body upwards. “I love proving you wrong.”

The snake-like tongue slithers from its mouth, dripping a saliva that steams and runs thick as tar, before sliding into the corpse's mouth. For a moment, Dirk can feel it: acrid and burning. It pushes down, through the shredded throat, past the lungs, and into the belly, funneling the searing saliva into it. He watches wide-eyed as the bloody, burnt body starts to twitch; its mouth flush with the demons. The blackened skin begins to crack and fall, showing something pale and flawless beneath. The hand in its chest is removed, yet it stays upwards, mouth melded with the skull’s and held aloft by its tongue alone. The body cracks, the body bends, and more blackened skin falls. From the skull, fresh, pale hair springs forth as the chard remands fall away. 

The demon’s tongue slides from the body’s mouth, whiplike, and sends it flying to the ground where it pulls in a wet gasp.

“If I can’t have the soul,” the devil booms out, “then I’ll keep the body.”

Dirk looks down at the pale, gasping form of Bro. With each breath, smoke and steam billows from his mouth, flames burn behind his eyes, and Dirk tries to shrink away. 

“Do you know what I want now, Dirk?” Bro asks as Dirk watches the thing on the floor twitch.

He can’t speak. If he does, then he’ll admit it, he will _be_ it.

Bro forces his head around to look at him, into eyes that burn darker than those of the freshly born thing on the ground.

“I want my soul back.” Bro kisses him hard.

His skin feels like fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, I'm getting to the 'Why' of this story. When [glass-hearts-art](http://glass-hearts-art.tumblr.com) first talked to me about this idea, I loved it. So happy that she gave me the option to write something for it because it's such a FUN IDEA!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, but it is getting us to plot and all that loveliness. Apologies for the wait!

There is something cool on his forehead, and it is fucking fantastic. Everything else about him feels like he is being licked with flames except for that point of blissfully cold contact. 

“Is he waking up?” The voice is a tad loud, and Dirk winces. 

“Yes, Meulin, please quiet down.” 

There is an exhale as if to start a sentence, but instead, it is followed by quick rustles.

“I don’t know,” Horuss replies. 

Dirk cracks a single eye and finds himself staring at the blurry underside of Horuss’ chin. Near his feet, he sees something moving quickly.

“If it doesn’t break soon, then yes, we should take him to the student clinic, but right now we need to see if—”

“I’m fine,” Dirk croaks. No, he’s not, he’s not fine at all. He feels like hell, but old habits die hard, and a Strider only goes to the doctor if they are bloody or broken. Dirk is neither, or at least he’s trying to convince himself of that.

“No, you are not,” Horuss chides. “I found you passed out in front of the door.” He holds Dirk’s face in his hands, turning it gently as he looks into his eyes. He covers one, and then removes it, allowing the light from the ceiling to blare down. “What happened?” He starts doing it to the other one.

“Dunno,” Dirk replies as he pushes Horuss’ hands away and sits up. The world tilts some, but large hands catch him.

“Did you fall off the bed?” Meulin’s loud voice makes him shudder as pain buzzes behind his eyes. Damn, she can be loud. 

Horuss must feel him flinch because he gives Meulin a little look his shoulder that makes her cover her mouth before giving a stage whispering of; “Did he fall off the bed?”

“Why would you ask that?” Dirk grumbles. Man, should the desk look sideways like that?

“You have a sizable lump on your head,” Horuss replies as he touches at the side of Dirk’s skull. 

It makes him hiss and jerk away. 

“I thought you might have a concussion,” he tells him as he presses what Dirk realizes is a cold soda can to the lump. “But I didn’t want to move you immediately. Bit of a catch 22.”

“Yeah, didn’t read that.” 

“Didn’t re— Dirk I’m not talking about the book, I’m—” 

Dirk grabs Horuss’ shoulder and starts to pull himself up.

“What are you doing?”

“Moving.”

“Is he okay?” Meulin asks, her hands reaching out in an attempt to steady him.

Dirk can’t stop the glare and snarl; really he can’t, because her voice fucking _hurts_. Meulin jumps back slightly, her thick curls bouncing around her as she stares at him with wide, green eyes.

“Sorry,” she whispers, almost too quiet to hear. 

In response, Dirk slumps. Horuss catches him.

“We are going to the clinic,” he huffs.

“No, no we’re not,” Dirk grunts as he pushes off of him and heads for the bed.

“You are clearly out of sorts, you have a fever, and are possibly concussed,” Horuss hisses, refusing to let go of Dirk as he helps him toward the mattress.

“I’ve had a concussion; this is not a concussion. I’m making full sentences.”

Horuss stares at him, lips pursed together. 

“Fine,” he stands. “Then you lay down, and we’ll begin the cleansing.”

Dirk’s heart jerks in his chest. “Now?” it slips out of him.

Horuss raises a brow at him. “Yes, now. You don’t have to actively be apart of it, and it might be easier on you if you are resting while we do it.” He makes a few signs at Meulin who swings a messenger bag around her body so that she can root through it. 

Dirk can already smell something kind of earthy; it makes him feel ill. They can’t do it now! If he does it now then… wait, why can’t he do it now? If anything, doing it now would make the most sense, so why—

Dirk vomits without warning. It’s mostly just bile and leftover water, but it rushes out of him quick enough to make Meulin scream. Horuss gives a startled shout as he jolts forward to catch Dirk before he tips off the bed and onto the floor. The room is spinning again and chills run up and down his entire body as he shudders.

“Dirk, we are going to the clinic. Meulin would—” he pauses before cradling Dirk against his chest and signing at Meulin.

“Okay!” she shouts before darting out of the room.

“Where’s she going?” Dirk slurs.

“To get Kurloz. We’ll need his car.”

Dirk nods against his chest before moving away quickly. More bile spills over his lips and splashes over the laminate of the door room. Horuss presses the back of his hand to Dirk’s face and throat when he finally stops.

“You’re burning up,” he mutters.

_”This isn’t even close to burning.”_ Dirk’s not sure where the thought comes from.

Horuss sits him down with a trashcan while he quickly cleans up the floor with paper towels from the bathroom. He’s just about done when he gets a text. 

“They’re waiting outside,” he tells Dirk as he wipes up the last of it; tossing the sodden paper into a plastic bag.

“Great,” Dirk grumbles. He’s shivering now, and not just a little bit. It shudders through him as he clutches to the trash can.

“Come on,” Horuss says gently as he pulls Dirk to his feet. He pulls one of Dirk’s arms around his shoulders and wraps his own arm around Dirk’s waist; Horuss uses his free hand to carry the small trash can. They stumble from the room, and Dirk heaves again. Nothing comes up this time, but Horuss is still forced to do an odd sidestep try and get the can in front of his face. 

The elevator ride is gag-inducing as well, leaving Dirk’s throat aching as he shivers against Horuss’s side. The student working the front desk watches them with a raised brow as Horuss stumbles out onto the main floor. Meulin is waiting. 

“He’s outside!” she yells as she takes the bucket.

Dirk moans as her voice shocks through his skull. His knees give out.

Horuss catches him, though barely. It takes him a moment, but he does manage to pick him up after a little shifting. They following Meulin out, who opens the back door of the small, dark car. Inside, Dirk’s nose is hit with the intense smell of too much incense in too small a space. He retches. Meulin barely gets the bucket to him in time as he spits out a weak stream of bile and saliva. 

His head spins as he looks around the car. Everything in him shudders as the door is closed. There isn’t enough air. The backseat is too small. His eyes roll as he looks toward the front seat. From the rearview mirror, a handful of charms hang; he recognizes some of them as religious symbols. Panic lances through him.

“No,” he groans as he sits up. He needs out, now. He can’t be in here.

_”Why though?”_ he asks himself, though there is no answer, just a need to run. 

Dirk tries to get up, using the driver’s and passenger’s seat to pull himself up. When he raises his head, he finds dark eyes staring at him. The growl that precedes his next heave is entirely out of his control.

“Quickly, Kurloz,” Horuss says as he climbs into the back of the car as Meulin climbs into the front seat. “We need to go to the clinic.”

The dark indigo eyes shift from Dirk to the backseat, then to Meulin, and then to the windshield. The car moves with a sudden jerk, making everyone in the car slide to the right except for Kurloz. Dirk almost slides off the back seats, but Horuss is there to catch him. 

“Careful!” Horuss snaps as he pulls Dirk upwards and into his lap. Dirk curls around him, face pushed down into his shoulder as he takes in deep breaths of his scent. Each one is tinged with the smell of incense, and it burns.

_”Out, out, out, out,”_ chimes in his head as he clings to Horuss.

“Kurloz, that was the turn, what are—”

“H-he says we’re not going to the clinic,” Meulin calls from the front seat. Dirk peaks at her; her eyes are focussed on Kurloz, whom he currently can’t see.

“Why the hell not!”

“Because he’s not sick,” Meulin says. “He says…” Dirk sees her go pale and snarls when her eyes fall on him. “He says that’s not Dirk.”

Dirk’s lips turn up into a sickly smile, “And here I thought Pony Boy would figure it out first.” Dirk has no control over the words, nor does he have control of his hands as they wrap up and are Horuss’ neck. 

“You seem like you could get kinky. Ever wanted to try some breath play?”

His fingers grip tight, Horuss grabs at his hands and try and pull them away, but he keeps them locked in place. He can feel the muscles compressing beneath his fingers; how Horuss’ pulse races. Horuss can’t break the hold, but he does manage to lessen it just before Meulin screams and Kurloz takes a hard turn.

It sends Dirk flying across the car; his loosened grip ripping from Horuss’ throat. He slams against the other door, head reeling as he feels the urge to vomit again. Horuss coughs hard as he stares at Dirk.

“Come here, horsey,” Dirk growls. “Been wantin' to give you a ride.” He goes to launch himself, but something wraps around him. 

“I’ve got him!” Meulin yells in his ear as her arms lock around his shoulders, pulling him against the back of her chair. He tears at her forearms with his nails, making her scream. The smell of copper mingles with the incense, and it makes it so much easier to breathe.

_”STOP!”_ he cries as he feels his finger sink into a cut. Horuss’s hands grab his slick ones before they can go too deep. He can hear sobbing in his ear. _”I don’t want this! What’s happening, why—”_

_’Shut up, already,’_ Bro snarls, and he feels a shove within his own body. _’It’s my turn to drive.’_

“Dirk, I’m sorry.”

“Huh?” His looks up just in time to watch a fist fly at his head. 

There is pain, a wave of nausea, and then darkness.

Dirk floats in it, breathing hard as he looks around himself.

“You realize they aren’t going to be able to stop me now, right?” To words are in his ear, his _mind_. Hands slide down his chest, over his stomach, and cup his groin. Dirk gives a pained sound as he is stoked harshly. A scream erupts as something pushes inside him.

“I’m already _in_ you Dirk,” Bro snarls, though he still can’t see him. He can’t see anything. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted you back?” Teeth tear at one of his ears. “How long I’ve wanted to be more than just a body?”

Dirk chokes on a cry as he feels sharp points shifting inside his skin; running through his bloodstream.

“It’s my turn.” Bro snarls and Dirk feels it on his own face. “I don’t care if I have to tear you apart to have it.” Claws pull down Dirk’s chest, and they are connected to _his_ hands. “Can’t make a change without some pain.” 

Dirk screams. 

His body laughs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone is about to have some fuuuuun.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY 4/13 EVERYONE!

Waking up feels wrong.

Dirk tries to bring up his head, but he’s not sure which way up actually is. 

“I think I concussed him,” he hears followed by the sounds of shifting.

“You think, Ponyboy?” The words slip from Dirk’s mouth; he hadn’t even been thinking them. He also has no control as his mouth stretches back into a smile. He inwardly cringes at the feeling, because that is not how he smiles. It pulls all wrong in his cheek muscles and makes the curve of his jawline feel incredibly sharp.

“Dirk are—” Horuss stops, his shape just barely visible. Everything about the room around them is fuzzy to Dirk. He tries to blink, but nothing happens.

 _’That’s all me now,’_ he hears gleefully in his skull. 

“Where’s Dirk?”

The world is nothing but a virtual roller coaster ride, and he is stuck in the VR headset. Or maybe he _is_ the headset. Hard to tell when he can’t quite feel his face. It’s there, a gentle bloom of pain somewhere near his left temple as his eyes blink without him, but it isn’t quite connected. Behind his back, his wrists ache as something bites into the skin, but that too is more of an afterthought than an actual sensation.

“Oh, he’s in here.” The drawl is thick in his voice as he shifts, body sitting up. He sees Meulin move towards them, her body a fuzzy outline, but Kurloz holds her back, head shaking.

“Aw, what’s wrong, cat got your tongue there, Holyman?” Dirk’s eyes blink a few times, and things start coming into view.

Wherever they are, it is cool and reeks of earth and different types of smoke. He recognizes the burn of incense and cigarette smoke, sharp in the back of his throat; the unmistakable tinge of marijuana fuzzy and everywhere; and wooded scents he can’t quite make out floating from every corner of the enclosed space.

“Or did your little friend there take it?” The tone of his voice drops, his cadence falling with each word; like someone found the slider bar on his Adam’s apple and is turning down the bass. 

He’s facing Kurloz fully now, and the other man has a deep scowl on his face, which looks even harsher with the vertical scars over his mouth.

“If it makes you feel any better, you could start talking any minute, and it wouldn’t matter,” Bro says, the easy grin becoming more comfortable on Dirk’s face. “The god you sparked the deal with ain’t interested in trading your tongue for her ears.”

Kurloz’s face goes pale, his eyes wide.

“What did he say?” Meulin’s voice is a loud whisper. Dirk’s eyes move to her on their own, and she looks sickly as well, though for different reasons. There is a series of bandages wrapped around her arm, and while they look well done, there is still a stain of red in the center of them. 

“I said, darlin,” his voice taking on a charming tone as that uncomfortable grin settles further into Dirk’s muscle. “He took your hearing. Little fuck didn’t know what he was—”

Kurloz’s boots are heavy thuds as he dashes over. His fist is a solid weight as it flies out and finds Dirk’s cheek.

The pain is disconnected, the taste of blood in Dirk’s mouth an afterthought.

“Kurloz!” The one word is made of two voices as Horuss and Meulin cry out.

Dirk spits, “Whoops, was that a secret?”

Kurloz brings back his fist, but Horuss is there to grab it.

“Stop, stop it!” Horuss snarls. “Dirk is still in there, damn it.”

“Oooh, expletives. Wish I could have heard him fuck them out of ya.” Dirk’s voice has hit a new register, a familiar one, and while it hurts his throat, it doesn’t seem to be dissipating. “Maybe I’ll still get a chance. Whatta’ya say, Ponyboy? Feel like giving me a ride? I know your little Duck was aching for it.”

Horuss’ face is a horrific shade of red as he holds Kurloz back. He doesn’t look Dirk in the eyes.

“He thought about it, ya know, before any of this shit. The night you were all hopped up on wine coolers at his aunties, hot damn. I don’t know how he held back, but I would have washed that filthy mouth of yours out with spit and cum if I’d been—”

The slap comes seemingly out of nowhere, but then again there is another body in the room. Dirk, no, Bro spits.

“Damn, looks like kitty’s got some claws.” He turns his head to look at Meulin. Dirk can almost physically feel her discomfort and pain as she looks at them, her body trembling. She’s holding the hand that slapped him as if it is burned.

Both of her ears are bleeding.

“Make him stop,” Meulin says, voice shaking, an actual whisper now. 

“What’s wrong sweet thing?” He smiles up at her, and she winces away, taking two stumbling steps back. “Thought you’d like the sound of my voice.”

“What?” Horuss asks as Kurloz makes a confused sound.

“I don’t like it,” she whispers as she backs up, hands going up around her ears. “It hurts, he _hurts_.”

“Aw, don’t be like that,” Bro cooes, body still facing her. “Let me talk between those thighs of yours, and I’m sure I can make it good.”

Meulin sobs and Dirk tries to clamp his teeth shut. He can feel a pressure in his jaw, at the very back of the mandible, but all he gets is that damn grin.

“He’s hanging on, ya know,” Bro murmurs, head turning towards Horuss. “He wants you baaaaad Ponyboy. Bet he’d take you raw right now if it meant I’d step aside for a few minutes. Not that I’m offering.” Bro winks.

Dirk watches Horuss swallow, “Can he hear us?” His voice is tight.

Bro grins.

“Course he can. Think I’d just make him disappear?” He shifts as he tries to get comfortable. “Now why would I go and do a thing like that after all the searching I did? I ain’t ever letting him go again.”

“Again?” Horrified confusion spreads over Horuss’ face.

“Don’t worry,” Bro says as he reclines and feels a heavy wall against his back. “Wasn’t in this lifetime.” His eyes dart around them. The room doesn’t seem to have any windows, just a few lights up above and a couple of electric lanterns scattered about; not all of them are on. There are stairs off to the left, and Dirk can feel Bro weighing the option of running over there as his eyes graze the walls. Even more seemingly random religious paraphernalia is thrown around them: crosses, stars of David, Ankhs, Buddha, and even more that Dirk doesn’t recognize, but he feels Bro shrink away from them.

“So who ya throwing your soul to, Holyman?” Bro asks as he looks back up at Kurloz. “Looks like your shaving pieces off to almost everyone. Though I don’t see my boss around here.” He grins up at him. “You know he’s the only one keeping an ear out anymore, right?”

“Shut up!” Meulin screams as something heavy, yet soft hits Dirk/Bro/THEM on the side. Kurloz rushes to her and takes what looks to be some sort of cushion from her shaking hands. Tears are streaming down her face, and blood is trickling from her earlobes only to get lost in her thick hair. 

_”Leave her alone,”_ Dirk pleads, _”Just leave her alone.”_

 _’Not unless they leave me alone, Duck,’_ Bro thinks back as he smiles. 

“Wanna know what really happened that night, kitten? While you were all soft and cozy and asleep while this _motherfucker_ was messing with—”

The cloth is bitter between Dirk’s lips, but he welcomes it. Bro, however, does not. The tongue in their mouth pushes and fights against the restraint as he jerks at whatever is holding their wrists. He even makes a move to get up, but then the rope around their ankles becomes known; loose enough to wiggle, not enough to stand. Kurloz gets whatever it is tied tight around the back of their head before he rises, eyes looking down at them with enough rage to make Dirk want to shrink away. Bro just laughs.

“What do we do?” Horuss asks Kurloz as Meulin goes and sits on a pile of cushions. It looks like Kurloz has cannibalized at least six sofas to create the soft patch, with even more throw pillows and blankets mixed in. Meulin covers her ears and whimpers.

Dirk feels the smirk.

_’I know you can hear me, Holyman.’_

Dirk watches as Kurloz’s eyes look over at them, but he says nothing. He is too busy signing something to Horuss. 

_’I can give it back to her, you know I can,’_ Bro is saying. _’Won’t even ask for your soul or any of that shit. I just want out of here. Let me walk away, and that little kitten of yours will hear everything clear as a bell.’_

 _”He’s lying!”_ Dirk screams it, loud as he can, and Kurloz visibly winces. 

_’Fucking backseat driver.’_ Dirk feels a burn go through his insides, following a pattern that may have been veins if he were still attached to anything physical. It sizzles through his consciousness and makes him weak; a spectator without a voice.

Kurloz’s eyes stare at them, and Dirk swears he sees a glint.

 _’I dOn’T tRuSt YoU mOtHeRfUcKeR.’_ The words are uneven and wavering, like coming in on a wind. 

“What’s wrong?” Horuss asks.

_’You’re loss. I know she’d love to keep doin music.’_

Kurloz’s mouth turns down into a frown. 

“Kurloz, what’s going on?” Horuss pushes.

Kurloz’s fingers flick at him, and Dirk kicks himself for not taking Horuss up on the damn ASL lessons. Kurloz strides away from Horuss, heading to a bookshelf in the corner. Dirk can feel his heart pick up.

 _’You let me go, and you can tell her yourself, Holy-man,’_ Bro says, though Dirk doesn’t get why. What is he talking about? 

Kurloz looks over the shelves and searches for something. He turns and flicks his finger and hands at Horuss.

“O-oh. Alright.” Horuss walks over to some sort of tree looking thing sitting on a low shelf and touches what look like necklaces. His fingers card through them before his shoulders slump and he looks at Dirk.

Bro snarls into the gag.

“Which of these?” Horuss asks Kurloz even though his eyes are on Dirk.

Kurloz turns to him and puts his hands up, the bottom hand with its thumb up, the upper with its thumb down. The top then makes a circle around the bottom, ending behind it so that both thumbs point to the ceiling.

“All of them?”

Kurloz nods before turning back to the books, his eyes flicking to Dirk between reading titles. 

Horuss grabs the tree and walks toward Dirk. Bro kicks out as Horuss comes closer. 

_’You’ll regret this you piece of shit!’_ Bro is howling. _’Your dual deities ain’t gonna be able to protect that bitch of yours if you take me out of him. Nothing will. I’ll find her and make more than just her ears bleed.’_

Horuss kneels before them and grabs a chain off the tree. 

The first one is a nine-pointed star, and it makes Dirk’s body ache as if he had just done a harsh workout. Bro grits his teeth, but nothing happens. The grin is back around the gag.

Horuss looks up at Kurloz, but he’s looking at the shelf. He moves onto the next. This one is a talisman of a moon holding a star, and while it makes Dirk’s entire body feel ill, nothing changes. Horuss keeps going, each time looking up. The next is a cross, and while it makes them groan, Kurloz doesn’t turn around.

 _’I’ll make you watch me tear her apart,’_ Bro is threatening. _’Have her watch her bestest friend bleed out after I fuck him screaming, then make you watch her take his blood right up that precious pussy of her’s.’_

_’YoUr BaRgAiNiNg.’_

A pentagram is next, the tip of the star reaching skyward, and Dirk feels his body shudder. He feels sick. The star of David makes him thrash, and then comes the three spirals.

A scream shoots up his throat as the spiral dances before him.

_’GoTcHa MoThErFuCkEr.’_

Everything feels like it’s being dipped in ice as Dirk’s body thrashes. He can feel sweat on his skin, and the taste of copper in his mouth as Bro bites down at the cloth inside.

“I-is he alright?” Horuss asks as he moves the pendant away. 

Kurloz turns back around, a tome in his hands. He says something with his fingers that makes Horuss frown.

“What do you mean, ‘read this’?”

Horuss sets the tree aside and takes what he is given. Dirk can almost smell the pages from here, and they are steeped in something earthy that makes him ache.

Kurloz’s hands flash by at lightning speed as Horuss watches him intently. 

_’I’LL KILL ALL OF YOU!’_ Bro is howling as Dirk watches Horuss. 

“So I just read...this?” Horuss holds up the book that is split open in his palms. 

Kurloz nods.

Horuss looks down, eyes tracing the page. Dirk feels a bubble of bile in the base of his throat.

“Kurloz,” he says finally. “I can’t read this. I don’t know what these even say.”

The bubble pops.

Laughter spills out.

The two men turn to watch Dirk as he shakes and chokes against the gag, Bro’s laughter trying to escape as he twitches and cries out in glee.

_’Too bad, Holyman. Too bad.’_

Kurloz shoots them a glare before grabbing the book and heading to Meulin. She’s already sitting up, and despite the pain on her face, she is reaching.

 _’Ah-ah.’_ Bro narrows his eyes and Kurloz jumps back as Meulin lets out a scream. Dirk can almost hear whatever Bro is sending to her; something high pitch and painful that makes the skin of his teeth ache and his eyes water. He briefly wonders if they are crying blood, but it could be anything really. It’s just _hot_ on his face and uncomfortable. Whatever is making Meulin wail like that is seeming much worse though. 

Kurloz whirls around.

 _’STOP it!_ The first-word rocks through them as the second comes as an afterthought.

 _’You want me out?’_ Bro is panting against the gag. _’Then start talkin’.’_

Kurloz looks back at Meulin then over at Horuss who is frozen in place. His roommate looks between the two, his eyes slashing between Dirk’s body and Meulin’s whimpering form.

_’Come on, Holyman. What’s a preacher who can’t preach?’_

Dirk feels something ugly bubbling inside him. He wants to tell Kurloz, to shout it like he did before, but even as he tries he feels the words get battered back at him by Bro; feels something in him burn.

_’Come on. You want me out, do it yourself.’_

Dirk watches Kurloz look at him, then back at Meulin.

“Oferniman dôð gyden, we temian hlêoðrian.” The words sound thick and croaking. They stick like rusted barbs inside of Dirk’s chest, makes them gasp, but Bro still laughs airily into the gag.

_’A year of fucking prayer right down the fucking drain.’_

Kurloz’s eyes go wide.

_’And you were so close too, Holyman.’_

Kurloz goes over to Horuss and snatches up the pendant, eyes glistening with a silent rage. “Beorgan ðe hâd duguð heolstor scrêpe.”

Bro howls around his smile.

_’Let’s do this you sorry excuse for a preacher.’_

Kurloz opens his mouth and continues to speak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost at the end! Also, the Old English is REALLY rough in translation. It's been a long time since I've written it.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha! The story lives! I hope you all enjoy this chapter. I struggled with it quite a bit, and hope the next one comes easier. 
> 
> For those wondering, the symbol that Kurloz had Horuss choose is that of the 'Triple Goddess'. She has multiple symbols, but that is one of the more Celtic variations.
> 
> Also, apologies on the double post; for some reason, the chapter posted twice, so if you got something saying 'Chapter 10' was posted, that was a goof. Sorry!

Dirk’s body feels like it’s lying in hot coals and an ice bath at the same time. There is no part of him that doesn’t feel the pins and needles that Kurloz’s words press into him. Nothing is safe as they pour in through his ears and fill up his body. The nerves are dead. The nerves are singing. Dirk’s body isn’t his anymore, but it won’t let go.

 _’Come on, you gonna keep talking, or are you gonna to do something?’_ Bro’s voice chides through their melded mind and into Kurloz’s.

Dirk is panting, or Bro is; he can’t quite tell where he ends and Bro begins inside him. He feels the pain of his body, the ache, but it seems completely detached yet all through him. Bro thrashes beneath his skin and Dirk goes with it, gulping in air and tasting copper on a tongue he has no control over. 

He’s pretty sure his gums are bleeding.

Kurloz signs something to Horuss one-handed, the medallion from earlier swinging on his wrist. He doesn’t even stutter in his chant. Kurloz has been talking for well over a minute, and his voice hasn’t evened out at all. It still sounds like there are rocks hiding in his throat.

“Oak, ash, and... thorn rods?” Horuss looks at him, puzzled as he kneels next to Meulin. She is still shaking on the pile of cushions; reds drips from her chin as she sits shivering, palms over her ears and her fingers curled in her hair. Around her, Dirk sees the slightest shadow, bent over her and wrapping around her skull. Dirk can feel it pushing at her, how it stems out from Bro, and he does his best to try and pull back on it. It slips through him like he isn’t even there.

Kurloz gives a nod Horuss, signing something else.

“W-where are they?” Horuss gets up, though hesitantly. Meulin doesn’t even acknowledge his movement. 

Kurloz tilts his head towards the wall behind Horuss, eyes darting away from Bro to give Horuss direction.

Bro watches Horuss move, allowing Dirk to see him as he heads for the wall. Bro has to crane his neck for them to see, but against the wall are a series of pegs. Between the pegs, there are sticks and rods varying in size from as long as Dirk’s arms to the length of a pencil lining the walls. 

_’Gonna get some good ol’ fashioned flogging going on in here? Beat me out of him?’_ Bro asks as they watch Horuss tentatively pick up a series of rods; each under a different notecard tacked to the wall. Two around the length of his forearm while the other looks only to be a little longer than a pen.

_’Think Ponyboy here will let you hit him?’_

_’WhAt evER GeTs you OUT.’_ The wavering voice slides in like steel wool, awkward and catching in Dirk’s mind as his body strains against them.

 _’Now that’s gonna be a trick ain’t it? Seeing as I’m already _in_.’_ Bro shifts inside their skin and it is abrasive beneath the flesh. _’Bet you’ve got all sorts up shit up under that meat of yours, huh Holyman? Do you give each diety a pound of flesh or just slice ‘em a sliver of soul?’_

Kurloz doesn’t respond.

_’Have you ever even prayed to this triple bitch before? Or is this your first time popping her cherry?’_

Dirk watches as a shadow stretches out towards Kurloz. It is almost to him before it tears into smokey tendrils. Bro hisses and retracts it. The medallion on Kurloz’s wrist glints at them.

_’So maybe she isn’t just a flavor of the week for you then. Not that it matters; she ain’t getting me out of him.’_

Kurloz doesn’t respond, just keeps chanting.

 _’Well if you ain’t gonna talk to me then I guess I’ll have to find my own entertainment.’_

Dirk gasps, or the equivalent, as he feels a harsh tug. 

_’Come on in and join the conversation, Duckie.’_

Dirk feels himself thud back down into his own skin, everything aching and itching as if the air itself is laced with acid. His eyes roll, and he falls forward, panting against the gag.

 _’Why don’t you let us have a little chat, huh?’_ Bro directs to Kurloz, _’I know Ponyboy wants to hear him.’_ Dirk picks up his head, looking up at Kurloz who stares right back. _’Speak up, Duck.’_ Dirk feels his hands moves, is completely aware of them, and knows what Bro is about to do before he does it. 

His pinky snaps with all the fanfare of a twig, and his scream comes out loud and clear through both his mind and mouth. Kurloz stumbles back, Meulin cries out, and Horuss drops the rods in his hands. They bounce over the floor and roll away.

“W-what are you doing to him?” Horuss asks as he rushes over, hands hovering in front of Dirk. They don’t quite touch him, but he can still feel the way they shake.

 _’Let him talk, Holyman,’_ Bro purrs as Dirk gasps against the gag. _’Let _us_ talk or I’ll be breaking more than just the fingers.’_

 _’YoUR LyiNG.’_ Kurloz’s voice slithers into him. _’YOu wOn’T desTROy thAt bo—’_ Kurloz cuts off as the next finger breaks. The thicker bone snaps a little louder than the first, and Dirk feels his consciousness try to fade. Bro rams him right back into his flesh, keeping him grounded.

Kurloz snarls around the next set of words out of his mouth and turns to Horuss. His hand snaps signs to him, eyes looking between him and Bro. He does not break stride with his chant.

“Are you sure?” Horuss asks as his hand hovers over Dirk’s mouth. “Is it a good idea.”

Bro breaks another finger, and along with the scream comes a stream of tears.

Horuss practically rips off the gag.

“Don’t listen to anything I s—” his teeth clench hard. Dirk fights to keep control, but it is wrestled away from him.

“Hello, Ponyboy,” Bro pants. “Mind coming down here? I’m parched, and I know that tongue of yours can help.” 

Dirk screams in the back of his head, creating an airy hiss in his throat that slips out between Bro’s grin. 

“Get out of him,” Horuss snarls back, his hands grabbing Dirk’s shoulders. Dirk can feel the press of them clearly, and it makes him want to sag. They are a familiar heat and pressure, though he can tell that Horuss is close to bruising him. Not on purpose, but Dirk has seen Horuss get worked up, and when he is, his hands become weapons.

“Oh, but I’m like you when it comes to Duckie here,” Bro purrs. “I just want in.”

Dirk feels the flicker, can see it as a shadow settles behind Horuss. It’s like the sound going to Meulin; he can tell it is there, experience it some, but he can’t do anything about it. Whatever this one is, it makes Horuss gasp, and his hands do tighten around Dirk’s shoulders to the point of bruising.

“Oh, you like that?” Bro mutters, pushing the shadow at him. Horuss pulls back, hands flying down between his thighs, trying to cover himself. 

“If you want to add your fingers go right ahead. Get in a little deeper.” Bro rolls his hips, and the shadow moves too. Horuss’ eyes go wide as he scuttles away; breathing hard as he jerks and twitches. 

“It’s how he’d feel,” Bro purrs as he keeps moving his hips. “He ain’t got much on you in size, but I know how to work it. Could make you cum screaming his name, or maybe just screaming.” 

Horuss shudders and writhes, pushing at invisible things.

_”Leave him alone!”_

_’What’s wrong, you want in on the action?’_

Sensation fills Dirk suddenly, and he whines as their body rolls its hips up. Horuss gasps and turns, falling to his side as he pants. There is pressure around Dirk’s cock, tight and sleeve-like, though it is not a physical thing. Yet when his hips roll on instinct again, he feels as if he is pressing into something; tight and warm and —

Horuss moans and buries his face into the floor.

Kurloz raises their voice, the chant making Bro’s smirk falter. Kurloz’s hand motion to the rods of wood on the ground.

“R-right,” Horuss whimpers as he goes to all fours.

“Oooo, doggy style. Or I guess pony style with you.” Bro shifts his hips again, and the shadow moves, making Horuss gasp and drop forward. 

_”STop It,”_ Kurloz snaps in their skull.

“What? Can’t do anything without your little helper?” Bro asks aloud as he keeps their hips going. Dirk struggles against sensation, trying to push at whatever is forcing him to feel what is happening, but once again finds himself trying to buffer against nothing. He has no control over the shadow, and Bro knows this. 

Horuss stumbles upward suddenly, legs shaky as he takes uneven steps and goes to pick up the scattered rods. Bro keeps jerking the shadow into him, making him stumble and cry out as he moves around the room.

“W-what do I do?” Horuss asks Kurloz once he gets the last rod back; bracing himself with his legs out in a wide stance. He’s shaking, and small whines are trapped in the back of his throat.

“Just stand there and look pretty,” Bro purrs. He jerks up hard, and Horuss almost topples forward.

Kurloz signs at him one-handed; a series of quick commands that make Horuss nod.

“Now, now, what you doing there?” Bro asks as Horuss stumbles around him. The three pieces of wood are all different lengths, and Horuss almost fumbles them all when there is a particularly hard thrust. 

He sets one just behind and off to the left of Dirk, and while it is only an unassuming length of wood, there is an energy that presses against his side as it is set down. Bro shrinks away from it, though he doesn’t stop the movement of his hips.

“Come on, Pony-boy, I’ve got all the wood you need.”

Horuss chokes on air as he moves around them, setting another rod in front of them. This one is at a slight slant, pointing towards the first. Bro snarls as Dirk feels something like a wall press against his side.

“Horuss.” It comes out choked, the words now in Dirk’s register. It makes Horuss stutter as he moves to set down the third one.

“Please, stop,” Dirk’s mouth sobs, though it isn’t him. “It hurts. He’s going to kill me. You can’t get him out without killing me.”

Horuss stares at him, wide-eyed as Kurloz keeps chanting. A page is turned, and Dirk feels a shift in him. It hurts, but again, not in a way that is directly a part of himself. It is a shadow on skin as Bro hisses inside. 

“He’s killing me,” Bro whimpers with Dirk’s voice.

Horuss looks back at Kurloz. Kurloz’s hands flick something to him.

“But what if he’s not?”

Kurloz narrows his eyes, the pendant swinging from his wrist as he quickly signs.

“You can’t possibly know that,” Horuss barks, the last length of wood tight in his hands. Bro is smiling under his skin, eyes locked on Horuss hands. Kurloz keeps reading, hands motioning for Horuss to put it down.

“Please,” Dirk pleads. “Don’t let him hurt me.”

Dirk can see Horuss’ fingers growing white, knows that the wood won’t stand a chance here in a moment. He doubts Horuss even realizes he’s about to break it. 

Dirk steels himself and focuses on his friend. He sees the shadow, and while he can’t touch it, he can mentally follow along its path. With his mind, he shouts as loud as he can, _”HORUSS, DO IT!”_

Horuss stumbles back a little, and Dirk’s once tearful face turns into a snarl. 

“What on Earth?” Horuss whispers, eyes wide.

 _’You pain in the ass,’_ Bro bites out as Dirk is shoved and pummeled in his skin. _’You’ll regret that.’_

Dirk’s body screams in a mix of pain and laughter as Bro does something that makes Dirk feel like his insides are shredding.

Horuss puts down the last rod.

The next round has no laughter, only screams from both of them.

“Good.” Kurloz shuts the book.

“What the hell is going on?” Horuss asks as he looks at Kurloz who seems to be sagging in his own skin.

“We’ve trapped him,” Kurloz replies. “He’s stuck in the lines of the triangle.”

Bro screams out in rage, thrashing as Dirk’s body feels pressure from every side.

“I-I can’t hear him anymore,” Meulin adds as she sits up.

“And I can’t feel…” Horuss clears his throat, hands flexing near his hips. “But what does that mean?”

“It means that your little Duck is all mine!” Bro snarls as he grabs another finger and snaps. Dirk feels it fully this time, but he has no control of his voice. “Don’t think I won’t tear him apart in here,” Bro continues.

Horuss tries to step forward, but Kurloz holds him back.

“No, I’m not done.”

Bro bares his teeth as Kurloz walks towards the far wall that is lined with different trunks and cupboards. He lifts the lid on a heavy wood trunk, his arms disappearing as he shuffles through it. 

Using just his thumb, Bro starts to snap the fingers on Dirk’s next hand. 

“I’ll make it so this fucker won’t ever be able to hold a screwdriver again. Watch him say goodbye to all his dreams of being a robotic engineer.” Another snap. “Isn’t it lovely listening to dreams die!?”

“Kurloz,” Horuss calls, panic lacing his voice. “What are you doing!? Stop him!”

“He’s trying to make you break the triangle,” Kurloz replies as he comes back. He’s holding something. “Whatever you do, don’t move those rods.”

“And what’s that for?” Bro asks though Dirk can feel fear sliding through him at torrential speeds.

“It’s soon to be you.”

Kurloz sets a doll in front of the triangle. It is an ugly doll, Dirk has to say, looking like it’s made out of old orange tube socks with a mocking ‘gangster’ feel to it. A fake gold tooth, a chain, blue eyes, and a backward cap. Across its blue shirt, the word ‘CAL’ sits in bright orange.

“What?” Horuss asks as Bro snarls and thrashes, trying to force himself to fall either way out of the triangle, but the invisible walls hold Dirk’s body up. He can’t get out, and that makes Dirk feel both apprehension and relief. The tendrils that had been touching over Meulin and Horuss are trapped as well, writhing in and testing the confines of the triangle as well, and Dirk finds that he prefers feeling them thrash in pain than them roving freely.

“I can’t get rid of him,” Kurloz says as he picks the book up again and starts to flick through it. “He’s too far integrated, and I’m not strong enough.” The last part is almost too quiet for them to hear.

“So you fucking admit it; you’re a hack, you can’t do SHIT!” Bro barks.

“I said I can’t get rid of you,” Kurloz replies. “I didn’t say I can’t get you out of him.”

Dirk’s chest swells. He can do it? He can get Bro to leave? And put him into that...doll?

“Whatever happens, don’t touch him,” Kurloz says. “Don’t go near the triangle. Tell Meulin.”

Horuss’s hands move as commanded as Kurloz opens the book. Meulin’s eyes go wide, darting between the other three in the room before landing on Kurloz. Her face steels into determination and she nods.

“Such a loyal little bitch,” Bro seethes. “I’ll give you one more chance. Let me go, and I give her back her ears.”

“You’re still bargaining.” Kurloz smirks and begins to read.

The first sentence feels like hooks sinking in just below Dirk’s skin. They slide inside and latch onto bits and pieces, making him scream as they bury barbs down into him. 

“Oh my god,” Dik hears Meulin scream whisper, and Horuss takes a jerking step towards him. Kurloz grabs him by the arm, his eyes never leaving Dirk.

“You really think the thrice bitch can hold me?” Bro screams at him. “Fuck the maiden and crone; she’s nothing more than a _hag_ now!”

Dirk doesn’t know what that means, but from the way Bro is flailing and fighting, he’s pretty sure the ‘thrice bitch’ can hold him just fine.

Kurloz flips a page, tongue moving deftly over words that sound like nothing Dirk has ever heard before. There is a tug, and his head falls forward as he gasps, eyes wide. Looking down, he can now see parts of himself. All over his body, he sees small dots; dark red and blooming, like bubbles of blood refusing to burst; they sprout from skin and cloth alike.

“No,” Bro gasps as he squeezes Dirk’s broken fingers into fists, making the bones grate on one another. 

Kurloz keeps talking, Horuss and Meulin stand side by side, grabbing onto one another.

The bubbles swell and blacken, the hooks inside pull, and while Dirk feels a slight jerking, it’s only from where Bro’s soul tries to wrap tight around his.

 _’You’re mine,’_ he’s screaming. _’This is MINE! I earned it. It’s my turn to live!’_ The hooks pull, and Dirk and Bro both scream as the bubbles burst, black shooting from them and out in thin lines. Each one jabs into the doll across from Dirk, sliding into it like needles. 

_’I won’t go!’_ The words race through Dirk’s mind and tear through him mentally. He feels nothing but panic and pain as Bro thrashes and clings. _’I-I fucking won’t! You can’t make me; you can’t—”_

Dirk feels Bro slip, the black threads thickening slightly as they slither into the doll. He can feel Bro spooling from inside him; a yarn effigy being unwound.

 _’No,’_ he pleads, fear filling in the anger. _’I want to be real again. I want to be_ you _. To be_ us _. Don’t let them do this. I’ll stay quiet; I will.’_ Bro grips tight, the last of his claws tearing as they are pulled away, the thin lines of black slipping into the doll. _’I’ll go back to just being the body. Please, just let me live.’_ he whispers. _’I just want to live.’_

Dirk is sobbing, tears and snot streaming down his face as he pants through clenched teeth. The dark lines continue to connect him to the doll, though they are becoming thinner. His body is nothing but pain and heat as Bro slips out of him millimeter by millimeter.

Inside himself, he feels where the claws refuse to unclench. 

_”Fuck off.”_ Dirk grips at the bits of Bro that hang on, and pushes; they start to slip. He wants to say something clever, biting, because fuck this guy, this entity, this _thing_. Bro has tried to take the world from him, hurt his friends, and no matter how much of its panic he feels, what pity he can feel is eclipsed by the sheer hatred of this _thing_.

 _’You made me,’_ Bro whispers.

 _”No,”_ Dirk says back as he keeps unwinding the claws. _”Pretty sure the green demonic fuck did.”_ He shoves hard and feels himself choke on fear and panic, yet he knows none of it is his. 

_’A doll can’t hold me forever,’_ Bro suddenly screams as he digs in the tips of his claws, threatening to take pieces of Dirk with him. _’Kurloz even said it, he can’t get rid of me. I’ll get out and I’ll come back. I’ll have you again. You are_ MINE _. We are meant to be_ ONE _.’_

 _”No,”_ Dirk says as he finds the last points of connection between him and Bro. _”You’re just a corpse that doesn’t know it’s dead yet.”_

Dirk shoves the claws out of him, lets the hooks pull, and the black lines spindle out of him and down into the doll. He fills into his skin, decompressing from the pressure that was once Bro and sliding into himself. Despite the sheer amount of pain, it feels amazing.

Kurloz moves quickly after that, snatching it and the rods from the floor, ignoring Dirk as he falls. Horuss is there, holding him and undoing the bindings on his wrists and ankles.

Off to the side, Kurloz is using twine to wrap the rods to the doll; one to the chest, one between the arms, and one to the legs.

“We need to get him to a hospital,” Horuss says as Dirk feels himself get lifted. He cries out as his hands are shifted onto his chest. All over him are aching bruises, each the size of a dime and dark like a blood blister.

“Take him,” Kurloz says as he reaches into his pocket and tosses a set of keys to Meulin, who fumbles them slightly. “I’m not done here.”

Meulin looks at Kurloz and then Horuss. Kurloz steps away from them, heading back over to the trunks as he mutters something softly while wrapping the doll in twine.

“Is he not coming!?” Meulin yells.

Horuss shakes his head. 

Meulin looks over at Kurloz and then at Dirk. She takes one hesitant step after him before clenching her hands into fists and spinning towards them.

“I start the car!” She yells at them before she dashes for the stairs.

Horuss goes after her, Dirk bouncing in his arms.

“Be careful,” Horuss tosses over his shoulder to Kurloz.

They get no response.

Dirk turns his head to watch as Kurloz ignores them, hands moving over the doll with the twine, spinning patterns over it. The doll's eyes are turned towards Dirk. The glass planes of blue smolder as they watch him and Horuss go up the stairs. They are a burning pressure on him until he is cut off from their gaze. Moments later, Horuss explodes out into the dying light of day. 

He blinks, trying to figure out his surroundings, though all he can really tell is that there are trees around them and the door they had come out of is sticking up out of the ground. It’s some sort of bunker, though he doesn’t have the state of mind to pay it much mind. He’s barely holding on to his senses as it is with all the pain echoing through him.

A car growls to life ahead of him.

Dirk is jostled into a whimpering mess as Horuss gets into the back of the car, having to shift him around a few times to get them both in and settled; Horuss pulling Dirk close to his chest. Horuss tugs the door to the car shut, and then shifts them, trying to get Dirk laid out as flat as possible along the seats.

“Dirk,” he says softly as Meulin peels out. “Dirk, are you with me?”

Dirk blinks up at him. The blue of Horuss’ eyes are shiny with tears, and he wishes he could reach up and wipe them away, but even twitching his hands is painful enough to make his mind turn staticky. 

“Can we go get coffee?” he asks instead, words slurred and gravelly. “I feel like shit.”

Horuss blinks down at him in surprise before he laughs. It echoes through his chest, reverberates into Dirk, and eases into the bruises. A few warm tears splash down onto his chin and collarbone as a few slip from Horuss’ eyes.

“I will buy you a drum of pumpkin spice,” he says as he pets his fingers over Dirk’s face and up into his hair.

“Rather just split a black coffee with cream,” Dirk murmurs. The world is going hazy around the edges.

“Alright,” Horuss replies as he ducks down and pushes a kiss to his forehead. “Coffee and cream it is.” His words are soothing against Dirk’s skin.

Dirk slips into unconsciousness and does not dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter! 
> 
> For those of you wondering, this exorcism is made up completely but has a basis in actual things connect to the Triple Goddess and the Celtic/Wiccan religions.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoy the wrap-up chapter. I had a lot of fun working on this with [glass-hearts-art](http://glass-hearts-art.tumblr.com).

Everything is ice cold. 

Dirk shudders, body aching as he is wracked with shivers that make his body tremble. All over him, he can feel pinpoints of pain that radiate outward into dim throbs. It feels like the time Dirk talked Dave into going to an acupuncturist. His muscles had felt great afterward, but he had bruised in a few places. This is that times a thousand without the added benefit of loosened muscles. 

Teeth chattering, Dirk shifts, hand searching for blankets. What he finds is a gentle pressure over his body and a sharp ache in his fingers as he tries to move his hands.

He makes a groggy, confused noise as he opens his eyes. Dirk is met with dim light and shadows, an unfamiliar cream wall, and the scent of sterile bed linens. 

“Huh?” he grunts through chattering teeth, his eyes gummy as he blinks. Dirk shifts and feels the blankets on him shift as well. They might as well be open air with how well they’re retaining heat.

“Dirk?” 

Dirk turns his head slowly, his neck feeling a bit like rubber.

Horuss is sitting next to him, his own face looking oddly bleary as he sits up in a rather uncomfortable looking chair.

“Whatzgoin on?” The slur surprises him, his tongue moving sloppily inside his mouth.

“You’re in the hospital,” Horuss replies as he sits up and scooches his chair closer. 

“Why?” Everything is foggy and far away. He feels pain, but it is detached unless he moves. He tries to flex his hands again and decides he’s not going to do that anymore.

A warm hand pushes into the side of his face, and Dirk sighs, sinking into it.

“How much do you remember?” Horuss murmurs as Dirk tries to sink into the hand. It is so warm compared to the rest of him, and he’d give just about anything to have Horuss snuggle under the sheets with him and share some of that warmth.

“Remember?” He blinks at him. Cognisance tries to stir in the back of his head; it makes a gentle throb of pain pulse behind his eyes.

“Nevermind,” Horuss says with a weak smile. “You’re on a lot of painkillers right now.”

“Fer my ‘ands?” 

“Yes, for your hands.” Horuss pets his fingers up into Dirk’s hair, and while that gives him less warmth, Dirk does like the feeling of dull nails scraping over his scalp. He sighs blissfully, then winches as he shifts. His hands are starting to throb.

Dirk lifts one hand up, having it slide out from under the thin sheets. His hand looks like it is wrapped in an odd glove; a series of splints and casts in place over his fingers. On his forearms, he can see little dark patches of deep purple and red. He stares at them with squinted eyes. The pain behind his eyes grows a little more.

“Where’s the doll?” he asks, his mouth acting on some pulse from his brain that he can’t quite catch. There is something important about the doll, he knows that, but at the moment, he can’t put together why it’s important.

Horuss’ hand pauses for a moment before it keeps going again, the touch even lighter than before.

“Kurloz has it,” he says softly. “He’s putting it somewhere you’ll never have to see it again.”

“Promise?” He doesn’t understand why his face suddenly feels warm, or why his cheeks are wet.

“Promise.”

Dirk keeps staring down at his gloved hand. 

“‘M cold,” he all but whispers a few moments later. 

“Do you want me to get you more blankets?” Horuss’ hand drifts away as he says it, already standing to go fetch the extra cloth.

Dirk shakes his head, “Sleep with me?”

“What!?” Horuss’ voice is a slight yelp that makes Dirk wince slightly.

“Yer warm,” he replies as he looks up at him. Horuss’ cheeks have turned a ruddy color. It makes Dirk smile. 

“O-oh, yes. I guess I do run a bit warm.” He shifts next to the small bed. Dirk blinks wearily at him, waiting.

“Scoot over,” Horuss says finally.

It’s a little hard to do without his hands, but Dirk manages with some help from Horuss. It’s as he is moving that he realizes he has an IV in his left arm, dripping saline and whatever drug he’s on into his bloodstream.

“This shit is cold,” he grumbles as he points at the tube. 

“I never actually thought about that, but you’re right,” Horuss says as he toes off his shoes and climbs onto the bed. “I guess that is quite cold.”

“Yeah.” 

Dirk shifts as much as he can, turning onto his side so that Horuss can slide in behind him. It takes a little body Tetris, but Horuss manages to fit, Dirk becoming a little spoon as he basks in Horuss’ body heat. The sheets fall over them both, and he feels them start to finally retain some amount of warmth as Horuss rests his chin on the top of Dirk’s head.

“Is this better?”

“Mmmm-hmmm,” Dirk hums as he closes his eyes.

“I’m glad.”

“Horuss?” he asks as he feels himself start to slip back into sleep.

“Yes?”

“Thank you.” 

The arm that snakes around his waist makes Dirk smile. The kiss to the top of his head sends him sinking into sleep.

He dreams in snippets: a nightmare that is stopped by gentle shushings; a bright dream of him bathed in sunlight while staring out at a field of cloud-like sheep; a fantasy of Horuss’ mouth on his and hands exploring every inch of him.

Dirk wakes up at the tail end of the last one; a gentle glow spreads through him as he lays with Horuss gently snoring behind him. Dirk doesn’t want to open his eyes, holding onto the dream, though it’s already slipping away as he hears gentle murmuring.

“No, you are going to let that kid be in there be with Dirk however long he wants. I am giving him full permission. I, as Dirk Strider’s guardian, am saying that Horuss Zahhak can stay in there; I will sign whatever I need to. You do not take him out of there, you understand?”

Dirk blinks, eyes focussing as he looks at the door. It is slightly open, someone standing just outside.

“Sir, it is hospital policy that only family can—”

“Right now, that kid in there is family,” a familiar voice snarls. 

_”Dave?”_ Dirk thinks as he listens to his brother talk.

“Hell, I want that kid to be my brother-in-law after this shit; so if you even think of kicking him out, I will personally write the most scathing review possible about this place, and then we’ll see what kind of funding you get,” Dave seethes before stepping into the room and shutting the door behind him. He’s frowning hard, his shades pushed up on his head, and Dirk notes that he looks like he just walked off a shoot. He’s in jeans, one of his stupid t-shirts, and the red ‘suit’ jacket he likes to wear for them. It all looks extremely rumpled.

“That was a dick move,” Dirk grumbles, though he doesn’t move.

Dave’s head snaps up; his face is stricken with surprise before it melts in relief.

“Yeah, well, we both know I wouldn’t actually do that shit,” he says, keeping his voice low as well. He tugs a chair over. “But the staff doesn’t need to know that, now do they?”

Dirk grins before he sleepily extends an arm. He tries to curl his fingers only to find sharp pain in their place. He blinks, looks at the series of small casts and splints, and gives a sheepish smile as Dave gives him a strained grin. 

“Yeah, I am not fist-bumping that,” he says as the cast hovers between them. 

Dirk retracts his arm, and Horuss huffs behind him. Both Dirk and Dave go still, waiting, but nothing happens. Horuss stays asleep.

“This is seriously the cutest shit I’ve ever seen,” Dave whispers at him. “I have taken so many pictures. I am showing all of them at your wedding.”

“Oh my god, shut up,” Dirk hisses, his face warming. “Least let me get around to asking the guy out first before you start offing him great-grandmama’s family ring.”

“Oh, no, not great-grandmama’s, we’re going back a full six generations, lil’bro. Biggest rock we’ve got, the one so large it gave the Countest fucking carpal tunnel from wearing it all the time.” Dave grins at him. 

Dirk can’t help but grin back. 

They stay like that for a moment before Dave’s face evens out, becoming somewhat blank.

“So, you gonna tell me what happened to your hands? Or why it looks like you fell into a pit of leeches with a symmetry fetish?”

Dirk feels his own smile slide into something bland. 

“Nothing worth telling,” he replies. _”Not something you’d believe anyway.”_

“Really?” Dave asks as he sits forward. “Because I am very, very interested.” Dave’s eyes squint at him slightly. Dirk forgot how intense his brother’s eyes can be without his shades. He really wishes he had his. 

“Was it that Brodrick fuck?”

Dirk swallows with a dry throat, and he knows that Dave can read his eyes like a book. He feels the fear in them, the memories that are trying to pour out through the irises and into his brother. 

“We took care of him,” Dirk says, dropping eye contact, body shrinking back into Horuss. He tightens his around Dirk, subconsciously muttering something comforting.

“As in ‘we’re gonna need some good lawyers’ taken care of or, ‘I need you to buy me a random house with an unfinished basement and do some cask of Monticello’ taken care of?”

Dirk gives a strained smile. “Neither,” he assures him. “Some friends and I sat down and…” he swallows, looks away as he tries to think, and he knows Dave can tell he’s trying to think of a lie. “We Pinocchioed his ass and sent him off to pleasure island,” Dirk finally says. “He’s not coming back.”

Dave glowers slightly at that. 

“I’m serious, Dave,” Dirk says softly. “He’s not coming back.”

“He better not,” Dave grumbles. “Because if he does, I think I’m gonna have to have a strife on my hands.”

“You haven't picked up a sword in years.”

“Muscle memory.”

“You’d need muscles for that.”

Dave raises a brow. “Do I gotta bring out the gun show?” He moves like he’s about to remove his jacket.

“No, the gun show can stay safely under the tents,” Dirk replies with a soft laugh. 

Dave settles his jacket back in place.

“You’re not just trying to placate me right now, right?” Dave continues, not letting the humor sidetrack him. “If I ask big guy here, he’ll tell me the same thing?”

“Yes.”

Both of them jump slightly. Horuss yawns behind Dirk, making his hair ruffle with his breath. 

“He’s gone?” Dave asks, eyes directed over Dirk’s head.

Horuss tightens his arm around Dirk.

“To the best of our knowledge, yes. And if he comes back, then he’ll have to deal with me well before yourself.”

Dirk feels his cheeks warm just slightly.

Dave sits back, arms crossed, man-spreading his legs as he cocks his head. He makes a show of sizing Horuss up.

“Shit, I like you.” He breaks into a grin. 

Dirk feels Horuss duck his head into his hair, and feels him smile into his scalp.

“I...thank you.”

Dave gives a little laugh and shakes his head. “Good to see my brother’s been in good hands.” Then, in a more serious tone. “Seriously, thank you. Whatever it is you did, thank you for getting him away from that fuck.”

“It was my pleasure to put him in his place.” 

Dirk’s not sure he’s ever heard Horuss sound like that before; a dark tone mixed with a sense of pleasure and pride. He finds he very much likes it.

“And if he ever dares to come back, I will do it again.” The arm around Dirk pulses possessively. Dave smiles

“And here I thought I might have to hire the kid a bodyguard.”

“Daaave,” Dirk groans.

“Hey, not happening now that I know you’ve got him around. He could probably bench me.”

“Oh, well I don’t know about—”

“He could,” Dirk cuts in before Horuss and say otherwise. It’s worth it to feel him hide his face in Dirk’s hair again.

“Okay, I need to leave before the sheer cuteness of you two kills me. You hungry? I’m fucking starving. How about I go get something for us all to eat that isn’t cafeteria food.” Dave stands. “I’m thinking burgers. You want your usual?”

Dirk nods.

“And for you?”

Dirk speaks up before Horuss can.

“Find something that comes with BBQ and Mayo.”

Dave makes an appalled face. “Okay, I take it back, brother-in-law status revoked.”

“E-excuse me!?” Horuss stammers.

“Reinstated,” Dirk says without missing a beat.

“Affirmed,” Dave confirms. 

Horuss makes a small, confused sound behind him.

Dave grins and settles his shades back on his face. 

“Be back soon.” Then he’s out the door, shutting it quietly behind him.

“Your brother is quite the character,” Horuss says behind Dirk. 

Dirk chuckles and slowly rotates, Horuss helping him some. 

“He likes you,” Dirk hums.

“Well, as nice as that is, he’s not the brother I would like to have like me.” The line would almost be smooth if not for the shyness in it, and even then, it’s still pretty damn smooth.

“Is that so?” Dirk looks up at Horuss’ eyes; deep and blue and beautiful. He wishes he could cup his face in one of his hands, but that isn’t particularly possible. Instead, Dirk holds his gaze.

Horuss blushes, but he does not look away.

“Thank you.” The words slip out as a quiet murmur, Dirk unsure as to why but feeling like only Horuss should be privy to them.

Horuss runs a hand through Dirk’s hair, a small smile on his face.

“Of horse.”

Dirk groans, “Oh my god, nope.” He goes to sit up. “You ruined it. That’s it. _I’m_ revoking the brother-in-law status now.”

Horuss laughs, his arms easily holding Dirk down on the bed. 

“I do believe I have a few other tiers to go through before I can reach that status, let alone have it revoked.”

“Such as?” Dirk looks up at him.

“Well,” Horuss is blushing down to his neck. “Boyfriend would be a good start.”

“Oh shit, high roller,” Dirk can feel himself blushing now too, “Sure you don’t want to start with acquaintance?”

Horuss leans in hesitantly. “I’d like to skip the other titles if you’re willing to grant me a pardon.”

Dirk tastes his heart in his throat for a moment; full and happy and thrilled.

“Pardon granted, boyfriend.”

Horuss’ mouth is warm, tastes slightly of morning breath, and is 100% real. Dirk sinks into the kiss, letting Horuss’ arms wrap around him and hold him up. The kisses are closed, with only the slightest of nips or licks, but for the most part staying chaste. They burn gently with heat, passion, but while desire is there, it does not push forward. It’s just the two of them existing, mouths grazing one another, is enough for now; it’s what Dirk needs.

“Dirk?” Horuss asks gently as he pulls away. “Are you alright?”s

Dirk blinks, and he’s surprised to find his eyes are wet.

“Sorry,” he says, voice a little thick.

Horuss reaches up, thumb petting the tears away.

“Nothing to be sorry about.” He pecks a kiss to Dirk’s mouth. “Especially not after all...that.”

“Yeah.” Dirk pushes his head into the hollow of Horuss’ throat. They lay in silence for a few moments, Horuss’ arms wrapped around him.

“Any news from Kurloz?” Dirk finally asks.

“Just that the doll has been dealt with.” Horuss’ arm tightens around him. “He’s still not letting Meulin return, though. Something about performing a cleansing.”

Dirk stares at Horuss’ collarbone, face set in a frown. “It’s been dealt with...how?”

“I’m not sure,” Horuss replies. “But at this point, I trust his judgment.”

Dirk nods and closes his eyes. They shift just a little, getting comfortable as they wait for Dave to return. 

“Hey, big guy?” Dirk murmurs after a little while.

“Yes?”

“Mind if I sleep with you from now on?”

Horuss shivers lightly against him, and it’s a delicious feeling.

“I think I’d like that,” he replies softly.

“Good.” Dirk nuzzles against his throat. “Because I think this just spoiled me for sleeping alone ever again.”

Horuss says nothing, just tilts his head down, and kisses him.

———

Kurloz’s phone buzzes again, and again he ignores it. He knows it’s Meulin, and he knows what she wants to know.

_“Is it safe yet?”_

No, it is not safe yet. The bunker won’t be for a while, and he isn’t about to tell her why. 

The doll, Lil’Cal, is wrapped in twine; three new rods are laid around it, keeping it trapped within a triangle of power. Kurloz has several symbols for the Triple Goddess surrounding it as well.

“Alright, motherfucker,” Kurloz says as he sits in front of it, eyes locked onto the glassy blue ones that smolder back; there are pinpricks of orange in their centers.

He picks up a knife, reaches past the rods, and drags the tip over the line that separates the doll’s ‘teeth’. It slices through the cloth easily. 

“I think you and I have some shit to talk about.”

He sets the knife down well away from the two of them, his eyes watching the smile. The corners of cloth twitch up. 

“You lied about not being able to send me back,” the demon says.

Kurloz smirks. 

“Then you know that I can.” Kurloz shifts in his chair. “Give Meulin her hearing back, and I’ll let you keep the doll.”

“After the shit you pulled, Holyman, it’s gonna cost more than just keeping me topside.” Even if the doll itself can’t move, Kurloz can feel it shift, the demon moving inside a container that is much too small.

“You don’t have much to barter with.”

“Oh,” and how a stuffed doll can look coy is beyond Kurloz. “Don’t I?”

Off to the side, Kurloz’s phone begins to ring. He glances at it. Meulin’s face glows on the screen. With a single precise movement, he swipes the ‘End Call’ button and turns back to Bro. Something cold slithers into his stomach as he watches the stitched mouth turn up into a sharp smile and the blue eyes drill into his.

Kurloz straightens and stares right back.

“What do you want then?”

Even before Bro starts talking, Kurloz knows the price will be too high.

Even before Bro starts talking, Kurloz knows that he’ll pay it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before I am asked, no I am not continuing this. Why? Because this story was, and is, a collaboration between myself and [glass-hearts-art over](http://glass-hearts-art.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr. She came up with the original Dirk/Demon!Bro image that kicked this all off. Her knowing I love demonstuck stuff, she came to me with the idea and we did some brainstorming together, and she asked me to write the story while she did comic pages (originally this was only supposed to be 4-5 chapters, but we all know how great I am at sticking to word count). From there, we came up with the basis of the ending, and she is the one who has plans for the bit with Kurloz. Currently, she's swamped with work, so the comic may not come to fruition any time soon, but that storyline for Kurloz is 100% her baby, I just set it up.
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed the softer ending for Dirk and Horuss. I just really, really wanted to give them something nice after all that bullshit. Thank you again for reading! And if you would like, follow me over on [Tumblr](http://leticheecopae.tumblr.com) or my [Twitter](https://twitter.com/leticheecopae)!

**Author's Note:**

> We have some fun ideas for y'all. Hope you enjoy what's to come!


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